A Different Life
by Gmariam
Summary: When Ianto leaves Torchwood after Owen's death and revival, he builds himself a different life. But can he really leave Jack behind?
1. Prologue

1. Prologue

_Jack,_

_I suspect this letter will find you worried, upset, and possibly very angry. Hopefully you did not break down my door to find it. Know that above all, I am alive and I am all right. I have, however, left Cardiff, but you probably knew that as soon as you stepped into the flat. I'm sorry that you had to find out this way, but it was the __only__ way. I couldn't tell you, because I know that you would have tried to talk me out of it, and I would not have been able to do this otherwise._

_I am leaving Torchwood. I am leaving of my own free will, and by the time you read this, I will be miles away and starting a new life. A different life, perhaps even a normal life. You will find several level 6 Retcon pills missing from the medical bay, so rest assured that Torchwood's secrets, as well as your own, will never be revealed. I won't even remember Canary Wharf, and in many ways, I am grateful to be able to finally purge that horrific memory._

_Please believe me when I tell you that I am not leaving because of anything you or one of the others may have said or done. I am leaving for the most selfish of reasons. I am not afraid to die in the line of duty, but I could not bear what it might do to you or to the team. When you left us for your Doctor, we barely survived the loss. When Gwen threatened to leave with Rhys, you were furious and gave in to her demands, willing to let her stay at any price. When Owen died, we were all devastated, and you risked everything to bring him back._

_I can't do that to the team, Jack. I can't do that to __you__. I won't be the one who gets killed chasing a Weevil and leaves everyone behind to cope with the mess. Perhaps I flatter myself that the team would grieve as much for me as we did for Owen, but I saw how almost losing Gwen affected you. I saw what actually losing Owen drove you to do. I do not want to be coddled and protected and left behind in the Hub, nor do I want to become a liability in the field, to you or the team. And I don't want you to be upset when I die, because if I stay here, someday Torchwood __will__ claim me, as it claims us all. I know you well enough to know that you would blame yourself in some way when that day comes. I could not bear for you to carry that guilt for eternity. And I cannot imagine what it would be like to come back to the half-life that Owen has found._

_I suspect that you, and the others, may feel betrayed by my actions, but at least you are not mourning my death. You can rest easier knowing that I am safe and alive, and I can rest easier knowing that you will recover from this and move on, as Torchwood must always do. At least it will not be under the shadow of death, but the promise of life._

_I will miss you, Jack. More than anything in my life, I regret having to lose my memories of you and all that you have come to mean to me. There have been times when I wished that we could have a normal life outside of Torchwood, but it was not meant to be. You are a time-traveling immortal, and I am a simply one man who has seen too much, experienced too much, and loved too much. It is time to put that behind me and start over. I suppose I am lucky in that I get a second chance at a normal life, but I know deep down that I will always yearn for more. For the wonder of the universe, but especially for you._

_Please don't be angry or sad. This was my choice and my choice alone, and I accept the consequences. I am sorry to hurt you, as I know this must, and I will bear that burden for the rest of my life, even if I don't know why. _

_Please don't try to find me. Looking back to the past will bring nothing but pain and regret in the future. Move on with your life. Find love, share laughter, and live each day to the fullest. That may sound like a trite greeting card, but it is my hope for both your life and my own. _

_I may have never told you, but I love you, Jack. I hope that knowledge will help you find peace someday. You are more special than you know, and more deserving than anyone I've ever met. You will __always__ be in my heart._

_IJ_

Jack stared at the single sheet of stationery, the looping script growing blurry as his eyes filled with tears. Brushing them angrily away, he crushed the paper in his hand and stalked through the flat, though he knew that he would not find what he so desperately wanted in that moment. He felt as if his heart were breaking within him, crumbling into a thousand pieces that would never, ever be whole again.

Ianto had left. He was gone. Forever.

* * *

><p><span>Author's Note:<br>A short introduction to set the stage. Rest assured that this is not your typical Retcon fic. It stems from yet another Gmariam/Tamaar discussion in which she posited one thing, to which I added another, and it took off from there. I do hope you join us for the ride. Thank you for reading, and please let us know what you think!


	2. Lost

2. Lost

Ianto had left. He was gone. Forever.

After all they had been through, together and apart, Ianto had left Torchwood—left _him_. Jack swore as he kicked a nearby box, packed and labeled with the contents in the same neat handwriting of the devastating letter. Ianto had packed away his life as if trying to make it easier for them all in the end. Jack screamed and yelled as he kicked the box over and over, uncaring of whatever was inside, cursing Ianto for his competence.

It wasn't going to be easier this way, it was _harder_. Jack was tempted to vent his anger and loss on every single box in the flat, ripping them apart and scattering the remains of Ianto's life around the apartment like the leaves of a dead tree. He didn't, because he couldn't do that, not to the only tangible reminders he had of the man. So instead he collapsed onto the bed, elbows resting on his knees as his head fell to his chest. He tried to take deep breaths, tried to control the gut-wrenching sobs threatening to overwhelm him, but he quickly gave up and fell backward onto the bed, staring at the ceiling as the tears fell, this time letting them flow instead of swiping them away.

Ianto had left. He had left to protect Jack, to spare him the guilt and heartbreak of Ianto's death when death came to claim him. But Jack felt as if his heart were breaking anyway. He tried to cling to the knowledge that Ianto was alive and had escaped the terrible fate that Torchwood inevitably brought upon all its brave men and women. He tried to tell himself it was what he wanted for Ianto, a normal life free of aliens and death and countless other horrors. Yet the words were hollow. He wanted and needed the other man in his life _now_, even though that day after day he was setting himself up for a bigger fall when he eventually lost Ianto, just as he lost everyone.

Perhaps the fall wasn't as bad as if Ianto had been killed, but it was still more painful than Jack had ever imagined. He felt abandoned, as he had been abandoned so many times before. Yet as he lay on the bed, countless images of Ianto played through his head, colored with sadness and hurt but no real resentment. Memories from the night they had met in the park during a Weevil chase to their first kiss after a long and difficult case; from the day Jack had returned from his travels with the Doctor to the night they had fallen asleep on the roof of the Millennium Centre wrapped in Jack's coat. Ianto in Jack's favorite suit and tie, in jeans and a jumper, in nothing; Ianto practicing on the firing range, making coffee, laughing in the pub with the team and sharing secret smiles with Jack. Jack had been back for fewer than six months, yet it felt as if he'd spent years with the Welshman. Now he would never have the chance. He had only their brief months together to tuck away and remember, and he would not let anger taint those memories.

At some point Jack called the Hub and told Tosh the news. She offered to start looking immediately, to comb through CCTV footage, to trace any and all records that she could to try and find him. It was her way of coping, he knew, but Jack told her no, that Ianto had left them a note and asked them to let him go. Besides which, Ianto had probably taken the entire weekend to disappear. He'd asked for the time off and told Jack he was spending the weekend with his family. When he hadn't come in Monday morning, Jack had called several times before rushing over to Ianto's flat. He wasn't sure what he had expected to find, but it was not an empty house filled with boxes, Ianto's mobile phone on his dresser with his wallet and the damning letter.

No, Ianto was thorough, and there no doubt in Jack's mind that he had meticulously planned out every detail of his disappearance. What threatened to send Jack toppling over the edge with guilt was that he'd had no idea Ianto had been so unhappy. Yes, he had been quiet since the fiasco with Gwen and Rhys, but they had all been rattled by the case. Jack had talked to him about it, when Ianto had burst into his office several days after the space whale had been put out of its misery…

_It had been a week since the showdown in the warehouse. A week since Gwen had almost lost Rhys and Jack had almost lost Ianto. He was still upset and found himself frequently glancing into the Hub or checking the CCTV to make sure Ianto was there, was safe, was alive. It was ridiculous, he knew, but he couldn't help it. Seeing a gun pulled on Ianto at point blank range—even if it did jam—had scared him more than anything else since he'd returned and started a more serious relationship with the Welshman. _

_He was staring into the Hub trying not to think about it again when Ianto stormed into the office, his face dark and stormy. Jack sat up straighter._

_"What's wrong?" he asked, fearing the worst. _

_"I don't know, you tell me, sir," said Ianto, stopping in front of Jack's desk and standing almost at attention, hands behind his back and stiff as a board. "Have I done something to disappoint you? Has my performance not been satisfactory?"_

_"Your performance?" asked Jack, completely confused. "What are you talking about?"_

_"Gwen and Owen are out on a Weevil call," said Ianto. Jack nodded slowly._

_"Yes," he said. "It was their turn. Tosh and I handled the last one."_

_"Exactly," said Ianto. "And Gwen and Owen were out before that, and you and Tosh were out before that. And so on and so forth. Why am I no longer a part of the field rotation?"_

_"What?" asked Jack._

_"I'm not an idiot, sir," Ianto snapped, emphasizing the 'sir' in a way that was strikingly unprofessional for him. "You haven't sent me out for anything beyond food and supplies all week. Is my performance unsatisfactory? Have I done something to warrant a demotion?"_

_"Of course not!" Jack exclaimed. He stood and came around his desk, moving closer to Ianto, but the other man stepped away, maintaining a cool distance. Jack sighed. He should have known that Ianto would realize what was happening. He should have been more prepared to deal with it._

_"Then why am I no longer allowed in the field, sir?" asked Ianto. "Because it's fairly clear that's what's happening here. I can only assume that I have done something wrong."_

_"You've done nothing wrong, Ianto," Jack replied. "I just wanted…you were roughed up at the warehouse last week. I thought you could use a break."_

_"Bullshit." Ianto crossed his hands over his chest and leveled Jack with a gaze he could barely meet for all its intense fury. "You don't trust me in the field any more."_

_"What?" Jack exclaimed. "Ianto! Why would you say that?"_

_"I was captured. Compromised. I failed. Therefore you've revoked my field operative status. Am I correct?"_

_Jack stared at Ianto with a look of horror. "You couldn't be any more wrong. Ianto, you were brilliant out there, from the very beginning to the very end. You took out four of those thugs all on your own! Why would you think that's a failure?"_

_"Because I was taken hostage. And now you're not sending me out anymore. I'm back to cleaning and filing and coordinating from the Hub while the four of you go out on every call." A measure of hurt crept into Ianto's voice. "I thought that I had moved beyond that."_

_"You have!" Jack said, wanting to grab Ianto and embrace him but knowing full well it would only make things worse; they tried very hard to keep their personal and professional lives separate, even if Jack was failing at the moment. "We need those things, though. We always need someone here, and you keep us more focused and organized than anyone—"_

_"Stop patronizing me, Jack!" Ianto hissed, stepping forward. Jack thought Ianto might shove him, but at the last minute he stuffed his hands into his pockets. "You're a better man than that, and I don't deserve it. I deserve the truth. Why don't you trust me in the field anymore?"_

_"I do trust you!" Jack shouted. "You're a damn good field agent, you know that!"_

_"No, I don't," said Ianto coldly. "I only know that I'm off field duty. And I can only assume it's because you don't want me out there anymore."_

_"Of course I don't want you out there," said Jack wearily. This was not going well at all. He had no idea how to appease Ianto without confessing something he was not ready to confess._

_"You don't want me out in the field anymore?" asked Ianto. He sounded incredulous, as if he hadn't wanted to believe it, but no longer had a choice. After a moment of silence, his voice returned to its usual calm demeanor. "Understood. I'll turn in my firearm and confine myself to Hub duties only. If that's all, sir?"_

_Ianto had shut down and put on his mask, but Jack knew the man was still angry and hurt. He turned away and ran a hand through his hair, trying to figure out how to untwist the conversation. _

_"No, that's not all. Dammit, Ianto, that's not what I meant, not what I wanted!"_

_"I'm afraid I don't understand, sir."_

_"Stop with the formality," Jack growled, turning back and waving a finger at him. "This is not about that."_

_"You are my boss, sir," Ianto pointed out flatly._

_"And as your boss, I cannot tell you enough how much of an asset you are to us in the field. You did an exceptional job at the warehouse. I was so impressed, so proud…I don't even have words for it. I'm sorry if I never said so."_

_Ianto's face softened the tiniest bit. "You're not making sense. If I did well, why are you not sending me out in the field anymore?"_

_"Because as your…your partner," Jack started, swallowing hard as the words stuck in his throat. Ianto's eyes immediately went wide. "As your partner, I let my emotions rule my better judgment. I wanted to keep you safe. Alive."_

_"Jack," Ianto started, sounding confused. "This isn't about that, about us. This is about me doing my job—"_

_"A job that you do brilliantly, but one that puts you in danger every day!" Jack said. "I can't risk that, not after what almost happened."_

_"Nothing happened, Jack," said Ianto, still clearly confused. "Except for me getting captured, which I admit was my mistake—"_

_"Will you listen to me?" Jack almost shouted, and this time he did grab Ianto's shoulders, though he held back from shaking him. "You were almost shot, Ianto!"_

_"I have been shot, sir," Ianto replied blandly. "And bitten and kicked and hit and stabbed and poisoned and attacked by large, slimy tentacles. I'm still here. It's my job to go out there, to protect people." _

_"And I'm protecting you," said Jack. He felt Ianto instantly freeze under his hands. "I don't want to lose you, Ianto."_

_Ianto frowned as he pulled away from Jack. "Is this about me, or about Gwen?"_

_Now it was Jack's turn to be confused. He had bared more of his heart to Ianto than he had to anyone in years, and this was how the man responded? Where was the disconnect? "What do you mean,'Is this about Gwen?'"_

_"You almost lost her that day, too," Ianto pointed out. "But you're not holding her back at the Hub."_

_"She threatened to leave on her own," Jack snapped. "She wasn't captured, attacked, and almost shot. You were."_

_"So you trust her more. She can handle it."_

_"Bloody hell, will you listen to me!" Jack started pacing, while Ianto stood straight and crossed his arms over his chest now, watching Jack carefully, his face neutral. "I trust Gwen as much as I trust the rest of the team. I don't want to lose her, I don't want to lose anyone. But I trust you more, and I __can't__ lose you."_

_"It's my job, Jack," said Ianto._

_"It's your life!" Jack snapped. "And it's already too short. I don't want you to throw it away chasing aliens!"_

_"Do you want me to leave Torchwood then?" asked Ianto. He looked like he'd been slapped across the face when Jack was silent. "You do. You're pushing me out by restricting my duties, hoping I'll leave."_

_"I want you to survive!" Jack said. He looked into Ianto's eyes, letting the man see everything he was feeling in that moment—all his hopes and fears and dreams for the future. "I want you to stay with me, forever if I could have it." As soon as he said it, he wished he could take it back. Ianto's face went pale, his eyes wide._

_"Jack—" he started, but Jack took two steps, pulled Ianto into his arms and kissed him hard to shut him up. He'd said too much already and would almost prefer that Ianto ignored it. But as they kissed, Ianto's hands came to Jack's face and he pulled back, gazing deep into Jack's eyes._

_"I would stay with you forever, Jack, if I could," he whispered. "But not like this. Not in a cage, like a delicate prize that needs to be protected. I want to be by your side, as an equal."_

_"You are my equal," said Jack, biting back tears. "But I always come back. You won't."-_

_"Someday," Ianto agreed, and Jack felt his heart break once more. "But I will do my best to stay with you for as long as I can."_

_Jack almost sobbed in relief. He reached up and took Ianto's hand in his own. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I know I overreacted. It's just that I—"_

_"Don't," said Ianto, kissing him to stop, just has Jack had done earlier. _

_"But I do."_

_"Now I know."_

They had kissed once more and gone back to Ianto's flat, spending the night wrapped in one another's arms, savoring the time they had together, alive and whole. Jack had sent Ianto out the next day with Tosh, and Ianto had looked both grateful and relieved. Aside from forgetting two entire days of their lives, things returned to as normal as possible around the Hub, and Jack kept his fears in check.

At least until Martha arrived three weeks later and Owen was shot. Jack knew he had gone too far to save Owen, but he hadn't anticipated it happening so soon after almost losing Ianto. It was if by saving Owen, he could one day save Ianto. He hated himself for what he had done to the medic, even though he knew he'd do it again. Sensing Ianto's shock and confusion, Jack had given him the space to think because Jack had needed it himself. Losing Owen had confirmed for him just how devastating losing Ianto would be one day.

He had not thought that day would come so soon, a mere fortnight after almost losing Owen. He had not suspected for a moment that Ianto was preparing to leave him, even when he had promised to stay with Jack for as long as he could.

When he told her not to look for Ianto, Tosh sounded defiant at first, and then upset, but they would respect Ianto's wish, at least for as long as Jack could stand it or Tosh could hide it. He told her to find Gwen and Owen and for them all to take whatever time they needed. She offered to come by Ianto's flat instead, but he told her no. He wanted some time alone, to work through his thoughts and mourn his loss.

And so he spent the rest of the day in what had been Ianto's home, and on some nights, Jack's home as well. He went through the boxes Ianto had packed, alternately laughing and crying over the flotsam and jetsam of the man's life. He set aside all those items he did not wish to stash away in the cold storage facility next to Suzie's belongings. In the end he had an entire box for himself, filled with ties and books and photographs and coffee mugs, movies and music and cufflinks and even Ianto's pillow. He placed the crumpled letter on top of his mementos and closed the box, glancing around the flat one last time. Eventually he would have Gwen and Owen come by to take the rest away, when they were all ready.

"Goodbye, Ianto Jones," Jack whispered to the dark silence, his heart breaking once more. "I hope you did the right thing."

He forced back the sliver of hope that someday he might see Ianto again, walking through Cardiff, blissfully unaware of his former life yet safe and content in his new one. He wished only the best for his friend and lover as he shut the door, and hoped that one day he might find his own peace, just as Ianto had, wherever he was.

* * *

><p><span>Author's Note:<br>Since the first chapter was so short, I thought I would go ahead and start my regular posting schedule. I'm hoping to update at the beginning of the week. Half the story is done, so we should be good to go until I catch up to myself! As always, a thousand thanks to Taamar for her wonderful beta work. And thank you for all the reviews and follows on such a short first chapter! It takes a few chapters for things to pick up, but I anticipate a good ride as they do. Thank you for the wonderful support!


	3. Found

3. Found

Ianto had been gone for a month, and it had been a difficult time for all of them. Tosh had retreated into herself, quietly mourning the loss of her closest friend at Torchwood. She had taken it the hardest of the others, though she showed it the least, burying herself in work. She was slowly starting to smile again, but Jack still hated seeing her so sad and lonely.

Owen was more reserved as well, his bitter snark now silent without a worthy opponent to spar with. He and Ianto may have snapped at each other all the time, but it was different than when they had first met and struggled with one another, two strong yet completely opposing personalities. Instead, it had developed into a way for them to communicate friendship in the only way they knew how. It was clear that Owen missed Ianto's banter, dry wit, and ability to deconstruct any situation with simple words that were usually true but never cruel; Jack knew this because Owen wasn't taking the piss out of Ianto in his absence the way he usually had when Ianto was away from the Hub.

Gwen was like fire and ice, hot with anger one moment as she tried and failed to understand why Ianto would abandon them, then cold with loss as she grieved for Ianto as if he were dead. She was worried about her upcoming wedding, Jack knew, yet he couldn't help but hide a grin when Tosh snapped one day and told Gwen to get a grip, it's not as if Ianto were her best friend or lover. Gwen's mouth flailed for several moments, and she turned to Owen as if looking for support. He shrugged and indicated he clearly agreed with Tosh. Gwen murmured an apology under her breath, and everyone returned to work. Yet as it had been each and every day since Ianto had left, it was not the same.

As the wedding neared, Gwen became more and more upset about Ianto missing her special day. Jack tried to listen, but deep down he was growing frustrated, impatient, and exasperated. She was getting married and entitled to her anxiety, but she was also being exceptionally selfish when it came expressing her feelings about Ianto. Gwen thought only of her own loss, and not how they had all lost a friend and colleague. Jack was fairly certain Gwen didn't even consider his personal relationship with Ianto every time she said something; she could not possibly understand how disappointed he was that he would not be able to dance with Ianto at the wedding. Then again, he and Ianto had kept the depth of their relationship private, sometimes even from one another. How were any of them to know he was devastated by his lover's decision to leave?

When Gwen got herself impregnated by a Nostrovite, things only grew more complicated. Her hormones were all over the place, to the point that she insisted on going through with the wedding anyway. Jack went out to find her a new dress that would accommodate the sudden belly bump she had woken up with, but all he could think about was Ianto and his eye for clothing, and how he would have been able to pick the perfect dress for Gwen without batting an eye. Once at the ceremony, Jack enjoyed running up and interrupting it, and enjoyed breaking out the big gun from the back of the SUV even more, but he also missed the inevitable roll of the eyes he'd come to expect from Ianto whenever he did such things, the sassy comeback tempered with a smile just for him.

Now, sitting alone after wistfully dancing with Gwen and handing her off to Rhys, Jack wished more than anything that Ianto was there, in his arms, moving slowly across the dance floor to the sounds of Frank Sinatra and Tony Bennett. With a sigh, he finished his champagne, picturing Ianto in the pink shirt he had always worn so well, a buttonhole tucked into the lapel as they held one another close.

"I miss him too," murmured a voice next to him. Tosh was swirling a mixed drink, Owen standing behind her and watching the wedding party out on the dance floor with a look that spoke of his own sadness and loss.

"He would have liked it," Jack offered in reply, trying to smile but failing. He could almost hear Owen roll his eyes behind them.

"He would have hated that dress you picked out," Owen said, and Jack shook his head, because Gwen looked beautiful, and they all knew it.

"He would be happy for her," Jack murmured, and Tosh nodded in agreement before turning toward him.

"May I have this dance, Jack?" she asked. "I'm not him, but at least I won't fight you for the lead."

Jack laughed as he took her hand and led her onto the dance floor. Tosh pressed close to him as they swayed to the music, and he held her tight.

"I hope he's happy," she whispered. Jack swallowed against the tightness in his throat.

"So do I."

But more than anything, Jack wished Ianto was in his arms.

* * *

><p>Christmas was even harder than Gwen's wedding. Jack had never been one to celebrate the holidays much, having grown used to working or spending the time alone. But now being alone reminded him of all he had gained and lost in just a few short months. It had only been a year since Jack had sat with John Ellis while he died, and Ianto had calmly taken care of him afterward. They had unintentionally ended up spending the holiday together when the Rift had been quiet, and it had been one of the better holidays Jack had experienced for years. He had been looking forward to an even better one.<p>

He wondered where Ianto was now, if he was settled into a different life, a normal life, and happy. If he was with new friends and coworkers, or if he was celebrating somewhere alone.

Jack wondered if Ianto missed him, and then reminded himself that Ianto was completely unaware of those he had left behind beneath the Plass because he no longer remembered anything about Torchwood, including Jack. He was fairly certain Tosh was looking for him, and he let her, because he wanted to know that Ianto was all right. Memory loss affected people in different ways, and Jack had seen too many people suffer the effects of a major dose of Retcon.

Jack had sworn to himself that he would never die on New Year's Eve, not after what Alex Hopkins had done at the millennium. But this year was the first year that he was finding his promise hard to keep. As he stood atop a roof near the city centre, shivering in the cold darkness as he watched the fireworks burst over the sky, Jack thought about how easy it would be to give in, to fall, to start the new year in darkness.

But he didn't. Ianto had always hated it when Jack died.

* * *

><p>Aliens. Space junk. More aliens. Undercover operations. Extraterrestrial spores. And always Weevils, more Weevils.<p>

Owen was still dead in his undead way, Tosh was still looking for Ianto while Jack turned a blind eye, and Gwen was still being overemotional Gwen. And of course, Ianto was still gone, the weeks since Jack had found the note now stretching into months. One after another, with no change other than a slight variation in what the Rift spit out for them on a day-by-day basis.

Jack felt numb inside. He was tired, he was lonely, and he was sick of feeling tired and lonely. He wanted to move on, but he couldn't because he wanted Ianto back. It was fairly clear after three months, however, that Ianto had been serious about his departure. They'd had no word from him, and Tosh had failed to find a single clue to his whereabouts in her discreet searching.

Until the end of January, almost a year to the day since her and Jack had gone back to 1941. Tosh had stayed late, as usual, and had called him with excitement in her voice. Jack tried so hard not to let hope flutter in his chest, but it did anyway when he saw her shining face and just _knew_ what she was going to tell him.

"I found him," she whispered, tears springing to her eyes. "I've been searching for something, anything, and I finally found him."

Jack raised an eyebrow, and she gave him a crooked smile as she turned back to her monitors. "I know you told me not to, but I had to know. It was barely a bread crumb, but I followed the trail back to the source—or the endgame, I'm not sure. Either way, I really think it's him."

She pulled up a file and showed him a slightly blurry picture of a driver's license registered to Tristan Warlow. The man had a beard and slightly longer hair, but the nose and those sideburns and that tie were all Ianto Jones; if it wasn't Ianto, it was his doppelganger in almost every sense of the word.

"Where?" Jack breathed, staring at the photograph. Tristan Warlow. Tristan, as in the tragic hero of Welsh myth? Had Ianto chosen that name for its sad meaning, a commentary on love and loss? It broke Jack's heart all over again to think so.

"He's living in Caernarfon," Tosh said quietly. "I found the bread crumb in one of Ianto's folders and traced it to this man."

Jack frowned. "What sort of crumb?"

Tosh looked up at him and smiled. "Ianto was good, he really was. I knew he wouldn't make any preparations from the Hub, and he took his laptop with him. He hasn't used it, though—that was easy enough to look for. So I hacked into the ISP from his flat and began searching through everything I could of his online access. Again, it was very clean, with the exception of a different email address from the personal one we have on file. Everything was deleted, but I recovered a confirmation for a new email address registered to tryswarlow. I've been tracking that for weeks and finally got a hit—Tristan Warlow, 26."

"And from that you found him in Caernarfon." As usual, Jack was astounded by Tosh's ability to find just about anything, anywhere.

"Yep. He's working at the castle." She paused and looked up at him. "Jack, I think it's him. It looks like him, and he's in a tourist office of sorts, by the sea, in Wales. It makes sense that he would gravitate toward something familiar." She sounded hopeful, but also as if she was trying to convince herself that she was right.

Jack nodded, though something was tugging at his gut, telling him not go get his hopes up. "His grandparents were from up north."

"How did you know that?" Tosh asked in surprise, pulling up Ianto's file and scrolling through it.

"Sometimes I remember the little things," Jack murmured, remembering the time Ianto had told him a bit about his family. Jack had shared some of his own life on Boeshane that night, the first time he had shared anything about his home planet with someone in decades.

"I'm going up there," Jack said. If he left immediately and drove through the night, he could be on the north coast well before dawn. Which would mean sitting around a café somewhere waiting for the castle to open. "First thing in the morning. I have to see him."

"Jack, he said he didn't want us to find him," Tosh reminded him. "You told me not to even look."

"You did, though," he pointed out, and she glanced away. "Even when I told you to stop."

"I just wanted to know if he was safe and happy," she whispered, her voice catching. "Alive."

"I know," Jack soothed her, taking her in a close embrace. "And that's all I want too. I'm not going to talk to him, I just want to see him, to _know _that he is safe and happy and alive." He pulled back and gazed into her eyes. "Maybe then we can move on like he wanted us to." Jack wasn't sure if it was the closure he wanted or needed, but he had to try.

"Maybe." She took a deep breath and met his eyes again. "Can I come with you? I—"

Jack shook his head immediately. "No, we need people here. And too many of us might trigger his memories."

"Not if he doesn't see us," she protested.

Jack didn't reply right away, looking down to frame the right words before he glanced up again. "This is something I need to do alone, Tosh. For my own peace of mind. Trust me?"

"Of course I trust you," she said, pulling him close again. "I'm just jealous you get to see him."

He grinned, his chin resting on her head. "I'll try to sneak a picture if I can, okay? So we can remember that facial hair."

She laughed in spite of herself. "Perfect."

He kissed her forehead and released her, pushing her chair in and prodding her away. "Now, go home. You're staying too late. You've found him, so treat yourself to a movie or something. You deserve it."

She laughed. "I think I'm more likely to indulge in a glass of wine, a good book, and an early night," she said ruefully.

He helped her into her coat, then grabbed her hand and squeezed tight. "Thank you," he said softly. "Thank you for not giving up."

"You're welcome," she said. "Just…take that picture so I know, all right?"

"I will."

Tosh left for home, and Jack turned back to her computer, where the picture of Tristan Warlow stared back at him.

"Tomorrow," he whispered, reaching out to run his fingers across the face on the screen. "And if you're happy, I'll finally let you go."

He tucked away the damning hope that he would find a man who was so unhappy with his new, normal life that he would come back to Cardiff, to Torchwood. It was selfish, and Jack was determined to do right by Ianto, no matter the cost. Because one day he would have to let go, as he always did.

* * *

><p><span>Author's Notes:<span>

Thank you to Taamar for being a most awesome beta as we plot and plan the rest of the story. And to everyone who has read, reviewed, or followed it. Let a writer know what you're thinking? I know this is a bit of a cliffhanger, but what's a good story without a few of those? hope you continue to enjoy it!


	4. Lost Again

4. Lost Again

"It's not him."

Jack heard a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the phone. "What do you mean, it's not him? Jack, it's the only lead I could trace anywhere. It all fits. It has to be him!"

Jack hung his head as he threw himself onto a nearby bench not far from Caernarfon Castle, staring blankly out at the waterfront, grey meeting grey, just like his mood. "I bought a historical picture book of the city from him. It's not Ianto." Never mind that the man had looked remarkably similar; everything else had been completely different, from the tenor of his voice and the northern lilt of his accent, to the slightly green shade of his eyes and his extremely diffident manner. Tristan Warlow was not Ianto Jones.

"But then how did I find this man? How is it that he looks so much like Ianto?" Tosh sounded almost desperate to understand.

"Honestly? I think Ianto may have bested you here."

Another sucked in breath. "No. He was good, but not that good."

"He laid a false trail. He knew we'd try to find him at some point, and he made sure that we would find the wrong man."

"But why would he do that?" asked Tosh, and Jack shook his head, wondering the same thing himself and coming to only one conclusion.

"Because he didn't want to be found, I suppose. I'm sorry, Tosh."

A sad, nervous laugh filled his ear. "No, I'm sorry Jack. I'm sorry I sent you all the way up there and got your hopes up."

"It's all right. At least we still have hope, right? That he's alive and happy somewhere." He closed his eyes, knowing the inevitable response.

"Because he's not dead, not by Torchwood."

"Exactly. We lost him to a better life, not a horrific death. Besides, it was a nice drive. North Wales is beautiful."

"Jack…"

"And I got a book out of it. Want it?" Again he knew the answer as soon as he asked the question.

"No, but thank you. It would only remind me…" She trailed off, unable to finish, and Jack nodded in agreement.

"Me too."

They were silent for a moment. Behind him, Jack could hear the buzz of tourists around the castle. He wondered if Ianto had ever been to Caernarfon, if that was why he had chosen it, or if he had simply happened upon a man similar enough in appearance that he had laid the false trail in hopes of further obscuring his new life.

"This would have been a good place for him," Jack murmured into the phone. "Quiet, peaceful, and far away from the Rift."

"We'll find him, Jack," Toshiko replied.

"We're not supposed to," said Jack. "If he's living a normal life somewhere like this, we shouldn't disturb that. He made his choice, and we have to respect that." It was still upsetting, though, even after so many months. Jack could say it, but he had a hard time accepting it.

Tosh didn't reply, but Jack could hear her clicking away at her keyboard in the background. Either she was continuing the search anyway, or there was Rift activity.

"When are you coming back?" she asked instead.

"No reason to stick around up here," he sighed, standing and heading toward the car park where he had left the car he'd hired for the day. "It should take me about four hours, so unless the Rift expels an army of Weevils, the rest of you can leave as soon as I'm back. I'll cover for the evening."

"All right." More clicking. "It looks like you'll have a quiet night, Jack. Are you sure you don't want any company?"

"You go home. I'll be fine." It occurred to him that perhaps Tosh wanted the company, but Jack needed to be alone after the failure of his drive up north.

"Drive carefully. We'll see you soon."

They hung up, and Jack continued toward his car. He passed a young couple looking at a map of the area and impulsively offered them the book he had purchased. They accepted it with surprised gratitude, and he smiled, thinking that at least something had gone right for someone. He didn't want the book; it would always remind him that Ianto had not moved to Caernarfon.

* * *

><p>It wasn't long after he returned to Cardiff that the Night Travelers came through the Electro. Jack hated them. He'd failed to stop them once, and now innocent lives had been lost to them again: men, women, and children whose last breath had been taken by the mysterious phantoms Jack had trailed so long ago. That they had saved one boy was hardly a consolation; the boy was orphaned and alone.<p>

He tried to push the thought from his head that Ianto would know exactly what to do, how to help the boy. Tosh and Owen didn't have a clue, and Gwen wanted to cuddle the kid until he stopped crying. In the end, they made contact with an aunt and uncle who took him in. Jack ensured the boy and his new family would want for nothing financially. He did the same for Jonathan Penn, whose parents had owned the Electro. It was something he knew Ianto would have done without asking, and he wanted to honor Ianto by doing it himself.

Sitting at his desk several days later and sipping a scotch, Jack wished once more that Ianto was sitting across from him. He smiled to himself as he remembered their last trip to the cinema. Ianto would have loved the Electro, and though he would have been horrified by the Night Travelers, he would have treasured the glimpse into Jack's past, as dark as it had been. Jack could almost hear Ianto asking about his experience in the traveling circus, about his old uniform; he tried not to imagine pulling it out, trying it on, taking it off…

He was distracted by Gwen bursting in, demanding an explanation for the negative rift spikes that she and Tosh had found while combing through back data. He sighed and did his best to brush her off, then stood, grabbed his coat, and told her he was going Weevil hunting. Which he did. And in spite of his agitation and annoyance, he didn't even manage to get killed once.

But Gwen wouldn't leave it, and she hounded him, pushing until he finally snapped. Ianto had known about the negative spikes and Flat Holm. Ianto had helped him bring Jonah Bevan to the island and get the man situated. Ianto had understood the need and necessity of Flat Holm and had never questioned Jack's actions, but supported him unconditionally. Gwen would never understand; in fact, it could destroy her, which was why he tried so hard to keep the secret in spite of her incessant pushing.

He wasn't trying to break her when he grabbed her by the arm after yet another heated confrontation and dragged her to the SUV, and from there to the dock, onto a boat, and into the bunker itself. He didn't enjoy seeing the look on her face as she took in the broken souls around her, and he could barely hold her as she sobbed out her anguish against his chest after she met Jonah. He wanted to run. He needed Ianto.

When Gwen insisted on taking Nikki Bevan to meet her son, Jack knew it was a mistake, but he allowed her to learn the reality of Flat Holm the hard way. And when Gwen finally broke, he picked up the pieces and sent her home to Rhys, knowing he was no longer her hero and feeling nothing like the good man he tried to be. He went back to his office, irrationally damning Ianto for leaving him alone with Flat Holm, even though Jack had bought it and built it and run it for years before sharing the secret with the one man he had trusted with it—the one man who had understood everything about it.

But as with so many things, it was not about Ianto, it was about Jack. And Torchwood. For the first time, Jack wondered how long he could stay with Torchwood without Ianto. It was a strange feeling to realize how much the man had come to mean to him, and how lost he still felt each and every day.

* * *

><p>Life continued. The team endured. Gwen continued to fracture as she threw herself against Torchwood and lost each time; soon she would be as hard as the rest of them, and Jack grieved for her loss of innocence even as he recognized the inevitability of it. Owen continued to mourn the loss of his former life, but seemed to slowly find peace with his new half-life. In some ways, Jack envied Owen's acceptance of what Torchwood had done. Jack had reached an impasse, it seemed, forever balancing on the edge of a cliff, caught between staying and leaving, living and dying, unable to accept either.<p>

Tosh continued to search for Ianto. She worked on several new programs, including a time lock that would protect the Hub in the case of an alien invasion. And she somehow became Owen's rock, grounding him when reality was too much to bear, when the anger flared. She was stronger than any of them, and Jack made sure to thank her daily for all she did.

And then one day everything changed, and his world ended yet again.

* * *

><p>Jack didn't think he would survive the heartbreak. He was physically uninjured in spite of having spent two thousand years buried underground, and yet he truly thought he might die from the pain of losing both Tosh and Owen in one night. Owen had sacrificed himself to lock down the nuclear facility, and Tosh had died in Jack's arms, shot by his own brother; how was he supposed to go on after something like that?<p>

Gwen was devastated. She had lost a friend and a former lover, but at least she still had Rhys. She left the Hub and went home to her flat, to her husband, to her ordinary life, but Jack had nothing now. He had no home, no partner, _nothing_. All he had was the Hub and his guilt. It was his fault, after all: his former lover, his insane brother, his fault. There was no one to tell him otherwise, and he wasn't sure he could bear it this time, not alone.

For the first time in months, Jack was irrationally glad that Ianto had left, because it spared the Welshman the pain of losing Tosh and Owen. Or Jack the pain of losing Ianto, had he been killed as well. At the same time, Jack knew that Ianto was the only one who could possibly help him get through it, move on, and survive. Ianto wasn't there to hold him and comfort him, so Jack compounded his guilt when he swallowed half of Owen's painkillers and went to sleep, knowing Ianto would have hated Jack taking his own life. But it was all he could do, for weeks, because the only hope he clung to now was that maybe the Doctor was wrong, and maybe someday Jack would not wake up.

He always did.

Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months. Jack wouldn't call it moving on, it was more like barely hanging on by their fingertips most days. Martha Jones came to help in the aftermath of their loss, joining his broken team and bringing a tech named Jake Rogers with her from UNIT. Jack tried not to hate him, but he was everything Ianto was not. Ten years older, with ginger hair and a Scottish accent, Jake was chaos to Tosh and Ianto's methodical order. Martha had said he was the best and looking to relocate, and Gwen had approved; deep down Jack knew that Jake was a good fit for the Hub, if only Jack could stop looking at him as a replacement. Gwen had also brought Andy Davidson in as a part-time agent, and it occurred to Jack more than once that perhaps it was time to turn over the reins and leave Torchwood once and for all. He'd found the Doctor, but had come back to Earth for Ianto. Now that Ianto was gone, along with Suzie and Tosh and Owen, what did Jack have to stay for?

It was as if he were spiraling into a black hole, endlessly circling around the decision of whether to stay or go. Torchwood helped with the rebuilding of Cardiff and kept catching Weevils. They chased zombies, defeated sin-eating crustaceans, and faced more of Jack's past, while still dealing with all the other shit the Rift dropped in their laps. They even traveled a bit, helping out UNIT in Switzerland and finally destroying the remains of Torchwood India that Jack had thought he'd shut down decades ago.

Jack felt like a zombie himself most days, like a robot doing what he had been programmed to do. He barely talked to Martha, rarely talked to Gwen, and couldn't talk to the new guy at all. Life was like a waking dream, and he was simply a numb observer. He'd been doing it for over a hundred years and could do it automatically, but he didn't feel anything anymore. He couldn't. When people started turning up at the hospital in mysterious trances, Jack wondered if he was already in one. They traced it to the phones, and unthinking and uncaring, Jack picked it up when it rang.

He collapsed immediately and knew no more.

* * *

><p><span>Author's Note:<br>There are several references to the novels and radio dramas in this chapter, including The Dead Line here at the end. If you haven't listened to it, I highly recommend it, it's wonderful! And then hold on to your hats, because it picks up from here on out! Thank you so much for reading! Please consider leaving a note; reviews keep our hearts beating.


	5. Revealed

5. Revealed

It was a surreal sight: Jack Harkness lying in a hospital bed, unbearably close to death yet undying. Trapped in a coma-like trance, unconscious and unmoving, it was so unlike Jack's larger than life personality that it had to be a dream, or worse—a nightmare.

The monitor above the bed continued its steady vigil of Jack's vital signs, as did the man sitting beside him. Gwen had left the hospital with Rhys to track down the source of whatever was happening. Martha was monitoring several other patients beside Jack, while Jake, the new tech, was working from the Hub, trying to find a solution to the strange epidemic spreading through the telephones.

The man sighed as he reached a hand toward the silent patient on the bed. This was not how he had imagined any sort of reunion would play out, with Jack unable to speak or move, unable to lash out in rage or reach out in forgiveness.

He'd had no choice, though. When his handler had called and informed him of the situation, he had raced to Cardiff to offer what help he could, if any. He had found it easy to lie, to tell his supervisor that his sister had been affected and that he needed to be there for her and the family.

She was fine, of course, and they would find out soon enough that he had not only lied, but had contact with Torchwood. There would be a good deal of explaining to do, yet if it ended his brief career with UNIT, so be it.

It was worth the risk. He could lose everything he'd worked hard for over the past seven months, but he would have regretted it forever if he had stayed in London only to learn that Jack had not recovered. He had tried to move on, but being back in the country and working with UNIT had brought Torchwood to the forefront of his mind. Now that his life had settled into something almost resembling the one he had once experienced in London, he found that he missed Cardiff, missed the Hub, and most of all, missed Jack, chaotic as life had been with him.

With a sigh, the man took off his glasses and slipped them into his shirt pocket. He didn't need them, but he'd worn them for so long that he had grown used to them. Yet he felt more like himself—or his former self, at least—without them. Grasping the unmoving hand lying on the bed, he squeezed, hoping for a response, but there was nothing. Jack was as deeply unconscious as every other coma patient in the hospitable, alive but unresponsive to stimuli. Martha had told him to talk, though. Jack could still sense him, hear him, maybe even feel him, thought he couldn't respond, trapped as he was within his own mind and body. And so, taking a deep breath, he began.

_"They say you're supposed to talk to people when they're in a coma, don't they? I have absolutely no idea whether you can hear me, Jack. I never heard of anybody coming out of one and carrying on the conversation…so I suspect it's probably something the doctors tell us to do, to make us feel better rather than help you. We don't feel quite so useless and helpless. We get the feeling there's still some sort of purpose in our lives. We're not just waiting: waiting for the science to work, or the miracle to happen, or the nightmare to end."_

He cringed a bit as his voice cracked. It felt ridiculous, talking to Jack this way. And why was he being so melodramatic? Miracles? Nightmares? Well, he certainly had experience with the latter, and if he admitted it, this was one of his worst nightmares coming true: Jack Harkness, immortal yet trapped between life and death. Shaking himself of such bleak thoughts, he continued.

_"I'm not much of a talker, Jack. You know that ...And I'm sorry you're stuck with me, since I know you must be confused. I wish I could say more, but now's not the time. This is about you, not me. So__ I'll talk to you now on the off chance that it helps. Just promise me, if you're hearing this, that when you come round—and you're going to, Jack, you're going to come out of this—just promise me you'll never bring up anything I say to you now, to anyone. How's that? We got a deal?"_

Of course there was no answer, and he was glad, because in his mind he could hear Jack teasing him mercilessly. That brought a smile to his face, and let him continue.

_"This must be the longest I've ever looked at you and not seen you smile. I used to watch you in your sleep. Did you know that? So many times. Just woke up beside you in the middle of the night and watched you. Watched your eyes moving behind your eyelids as you dreamed. I tried to imagine what a man like you could possibly dream about. The things you've seen…the lives you've lived…the people you've loved. I wondered if you were dreaming about me—I hoped you were dreaming about me. But let's be honest Jack: I was nothing more than a blip in time for you. Every day, I grow a little older. But you're immortal. You've already lived a thousand lifetimes. How could you watch me grow old and die? How could I watch you live and never age a day?"_

Another break, another deep breath. Because that was the problem at the heart of their relationship, wasn't it? That one day he would die, and Jack would not. The risk was absolute, the outcome almost guaranteed, even doing what he did now, that he would die before his time, and Jack would live forever. He had seen what losing other team members had done to Jack, as well as the others, and he did not want to put them through that again. He had tried not to imagine that his personal relationship with Jack had been anything but casual, yet it had become undeniable, that Jack cared for him almost as much as he cared for Jack. Ianto had left as much for Jack's sake as for his own, because he could not bear to think that his death would one day hurt Jack so deeply...or that Jack would do the same to him. Because even worse was the likelihood that Jack would leave again; he'd never stayed around long enough to watched a loved one grow old.

_"I suppose we both knew that would never be a problem. Not in that job. No one in Torchwood ever lives to draw their pension, do they? And even now, if by some miracle I survive to see my hair turn grey—or god forbid fall out—I don't kid myself you'd still be around to see it. One day you'll go again. Just like you did before, and this time you won't be back. Maybe that's what you were dreaming about those nights when I watched you sleeping. Maybe that's why, even when you slept, I saw you smile. But you haven't gone yet, Jack. I know that. I know you're coming back."_

_For me,_ he added silently. Though how arrogant to think Jack would come back for him, for Ianto Jones, after all he'd done. From his first meeting with Jack, when he had manipulated his way into a job, to his betrayal with Lisa, and again when he had helped open the Rift...to accepting Jack's offer of a date, growing closer, and establishing a relationship, only to leave without a word.

No, Jack would not forgive him, not this time. He did not want Jack to die and would do anything he could to help, yet when Jack awoke, Ianto would be gone, in London facing the consequences of his actions and hoping against hope that he could cover it up and return to the life he'd restarted. No one in Cardiff would remember that he had been there. Ianto alone would continue to live with his guilt, regret, and the real reasons he had left, but it would be worth it if Jack was alive.

Gwen returned then, and he stood quickly, dropping Jack's hand and wiping his eyes, hoping she didn't notice. When both Gwen and Rhys looked at him with pity, he turned away to slip his professional mask back on and nodded when he was ready, indicating that he was all right. He did not want their pity. He had been on is own and strong for months; he would not break down now.

Gwen held out a cup of coffee. "You look like you could use it," she said softly.

He took it gratefully, fingers brushing against hers with a smile. He stopped before sipping. "Did you make it? Because I remember what that was like."

"'Course not," she replied, making a face at him. "I remember you picking on my coffee. We stopped on the way back to the hospital."

"Thank you," he offered sincerely, with a nod at Rhys. "Did you find anything?" he asked.

"Maybe," she replied. "We dropped off another one of those old telephones at the Hub for Jake to compare to the one Jack answered. How's Jack?"

"The same," Ianto said, unable to stop from glancing down and feeling his throat tighten at the sight of Jack so helpless. "Martha is checking on the others, but there's been no change in anyone."

Rhys settled into a chair nearby, elbows falling to his knees as he stared at the floor and sipped his coffee. Gwen stood by Ianto, gazing sadly at Jack before reaching out for Ianto's hand.

"How are you?" she whispered.

He squeezed her hand. "I'm fine, Gwen. Really."

When she turned to look at him, he was surprised to see the sadness and loss, affection and hope there. "We missed you," she said, a tear slipping down her cheek. "First you left us, then we lost Tosh and Owen, and now Jack…"

He put his arm around her shoulder, and she laid her head down with half a sob and half a laugh. "Jack will pull out of this. We haven't lost him yet, and we're not going to lose him now."

She nodded against his shoulder. "He'll be so glad to see you. You have no idea how hard it's been for him, how much he wanted to find you." She lifted her head to look into his face, eyes dark and confused. "Why did you leave?"

He let his hand fall from her shoulder and stepped away, dimly aware of Rhys glancing up with a frown.

"Gwen," he said. "Now's not the time, love."

"I think we have a right—" she started, but Rhys stood and moved toward them, taking her hand in his.

"We really don't," he said softly. "It's Ianto's business and he'll tell us what he wants, when he wants. Right now we need to focus on this funny phone business, help Jack and all these other people."

"But—" she tried again. Gwen Cooper, still stubborn to a fault.

"It's all right, Rhys," Ianto said, holding up a hand. "Thank you. I'd rather not talk about it, Gwen. Maybe at some point, but not now."

"Can you at least tell us where you've been? How did you know about Jack?"

Ianto sighed. He owed her that much at least. She had been shocked when he'd strode into the hospital, eyes wide as a shaking hand reached out for him. He had expected to be slapped, but they had embraced and cried, and then Martha was there, and there was more hugging and crying before Ianto had demanded their story first, hoping to avoid telling his own. Now it was time to answer their questions.

"One of my contacts at UNIT told me," he replied, hoping it might be enough, but doubting it. Gwen had always been one to push for answers, even when she shouldn't. "Your man Jake was in touch with them. Bit of a liaison, then?"

Gwen nodded. "He is, yes. He somehow managed to transfer to Torchwood without any ill will. He contacts them when we need an extra hand, another opinion, those kinds of things."

"And Jack is okay with that?" Ianto asked. He'd been surprised at the increased communication between UNIT and the Hub, knowing Jack's independent streak. Jack got along fine with UNIT, it was just that he preferred not to if possible. It had worried him at times, that his cover would slip and he'd be found; it had been hard enough avoiding Martha Jones for several months until she had transferred to Torchwood. Yet that didn't seem to matter now.

"I'm not sure he cares anymore," Gwen said. "Ever since we lost Tosh and Owen, he's been distant. He's still here, but his heart isn't in it. Jake could be a spy, and I'm not sure Jack would notice or care."

"Is he?" asked Ianto. He knew perfectly well Jake Rogers wasn't a spy, but he wondered what Gwen's assessment had been.

Gwen shook her head. "No, he's a good man. Martha wouldn't bring us a spy, especially not to replace…well…" She drifted off, her eyes going distant with pain.

Ianto let his head fall. He couldn't imagine how hard it must have been for Jack and Gwen. He'd almost come back when he had heard about Tosh and Owen, only it had been over a month by the time he'd been told. He knew Martha and Jake had gone to work with Jack and Gwen and felt like reappearing in their lives would only open old wounds rather than help close them. Now it sounded as if Jack had not coped well, and Ianto wished he had been there to offer support, even as just a friend.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm so sorry you lost them." He tried not to think about how he would never hear Owen's sarcastic voice again, or see Tosh's gentle smile. He had left them months ago and thought he had made peace with his loss then. Seeing the grief in Gwen's face made the reality of it that much more painful.

She reached down to squeeze his hand. "Martha and Jake have been invaluable, but now that you're back…Ianto, you _are_ coming back, aren't you? You remember everything?"

He glanced up at her in surprise. That's right, they thought he had forgotten his Torchwood life. For a moment he almost slipped and told her he'd never taken the Retcon, that it had all been a ruse, but he stopped himself and simply nodded.

"Not everything, but yes, I remember."

"Where have you been all this time?" she asked.

"Gwen," cautioned Rhys, and once again Ianto smiled at the Welshman's over protectiveness.

"I've been working for UNIT. My contact is actually a coworker."

"UNIT?" she asked. "But why didn't we find you? I know Tosh looked. She searched everywhere for months!"

"I had a new identity, and then went undercover overseas with another," he replied with a shrug. He pulled out his glasses, put them back on, and rubbed his fingers along the beard he'd worn for months, dyed a lighter shade brown to match his new hair color. "Hence the look."

"You're an undercover agent?" asked Rhys, while Gwen simply stared at him. He found himself flushing under their surprise.

"I suppose," he said. "I drifted for a bit after I left Cardiff, then joined UNIT. Trained after the holidays and had my first long term assignment with UNIT Broadsword in America. That's where I was when Tosh and Owen died; I didn't hear about it for another month."

Gwen frowned, clearly confused. "But UNIT must have known it was you, that you were Torchwood," she said. "You've worked with them before! Why didn't they tell us?"

"I don't know, Gwen," he said. "I'm still figuring things out." He took a deep breath to spin a lie he wished he didn't have to spin and hoped Gwen didn't see through the holes immediately. "They haven't told me everything and I don't remember it all, but apparently I contacted them beforehand, and they agreed to hide my identity."

"So they took you in and trained you to…do what? Spy?" she asked. She sounded skeptical, and Ianto couldn't blame her. Gwen's instincts were probably blowing off sirens, telling her something was off about his story, but it was the best he'd been able to come up with as he'd sped toward Cardiff after hearing about Jack. And it wasn't so far from the truth. He _had _contacted UNIT, only it was months after leaving Torchwood, memories fully intact. They had reluctantly agreed to conceal his true identity, particularly when they saw how thoroughly he had created a new one for himself, all the way down to his changed appearance.

He was lucky, when he thought about it. He could easily have been arrested, charged with desertion, and sentenced to any number of possible punishments for such a crime. Torchwood wasn't the military, but it was the same idea; he had not just resigned, he had disappeared with nothing but a letter. In the end, they had accepted his actions as more of a defection from one organization to another, even if it had taken some work to convince them.

When he'd appeared at UNIT headquarters in London, he had, in fact, been taken into custody. It had been almost two months since his disappearance from Cardiff, and UNIT had questioned him thoroughly, which he'd anticipated. They had also subjected him to all sorts of humiliating tests, which he had not expected. In the end, he had appealed his case to the highest-ranking commander with whom he'd had close contact with during his tenure at Torchwood Three, and the man had vouched for him, ultimately claiming him for UNIT under threat of life imprisonment. As Ianto had planned on working for them anyway, it had been easy to accept the deal. He felt trapped at times, imagining it was similar to how Tosh had felt at Torchwood when she had first started, but like Tosh, he knew what he was doing now was important, no matter the circumstances.

He had been given another new identity and placed in Broadsword, which handled intelligence and special ops. He'd started training almost immediately for field missions only to find his short tenure at Torchwood Three had prepared him well for undercover work. Easily able to not only create but maintain another persona, he could think quickly on his feet, and Jack had made sure that Ianto's weapon and combat skills were strong.

And so he had been sent to America for his first assignment. Area 51 was about as secret as Torchwood, but like Torchwood, the general public had no idea of what went on behind the closed doors of the secret base. It was as different from Torchwood as it could possibly be in every other sense, however, from the weather to the people to the tight military control of the base. But he had done his job well, and even started to enjoy it for the three months he had been there. At least until the multinational (hell, multi-planet) alien firefight that had resulted in his emergency extraction. And the two week hospital stay. He'd spent the past month in the Black Archive in London, preparing for his next assignment in Sydney as he recuperated, and was in fact getting ready to fly out in a fortnight.

"They didn't train me to spy, per say," Ianto answered Gwen. "I work a combination of intelligence and special ops. My first assignment was actually a combination of many things. I'd like to think I helped avoid a fairly major catastrophe a few months ago."

"How?" asked Gwen.

"Another story," said Ianto.

"What are you doing back here then?" she asked, and Ianto sighed.

"Recovering from one mission and preparing for another." He held up a hand as she opened her mouth. "And please don't ask. You know I can't tell you."

"Who told you about Jack, then?"

"I told you—a coworker. My handler, actually," Ianto replied. "Every good spy has one, right?"

Gwen shook her head in amazement. "Every good spy…but Ianto, how did he know to tell you?"

Of course she would pick up on the obvious immediately. "He…well, let's just say he knows a bit of my history. He was right in thinking that I would want to be here."

Gwen still did not appear convinced. "I don't understand. How did he know your history? When did you remember things?"

"Recently," Ianto lied. "But then I also remembered why I had left, which was why I didn't come back. I'm where I'm supposed to be." Which was true at that moment, because he was back in Cardiff at Jack's side. At other times, he wasn't always sure.

Gwen leaned on his shoulder. "I'm glad you're here now. It wasn't the same without you."

"I'm sure the Hub is a disaster," he teased. "And I shudder to think of the state of the archives."

"Yeah, they're pretty bad," she laughed. "But we do clean up after ourselves now. And Jake makes fairly decent coffee, although I miss having another Welsh accent around."

He pressed a kiss to her head. "I'm glad to hear it. Now, what are we going to do about Jack?"

Martha Jones walked in then and answered the question for them.

"Whatever it is, it's spreading. We have to stop it."

Ianto looked from her to Gwen. "Time to save the world again."

"Think you still got it?" she teased. She patted his chest, fingering the blue shirt he was wearing. "You're not wearing a suit, after all." He smiled for her, but couldn't help gazing at Jack, worry clutching his heart in spite of her light-hearted teasing.

"Absolutely," he said. He'd do anything for Jack, to save him from a living hell.

Even if that included disappearing again when it was all over.

* * *

><p><span>Author's Note:<br>Italicized dialogue is from BBC radio drama The Dead Line by Phil Ford. I have adapted it to fit this new scenario and no copyright infringement is intended.

Many, many oodles of thanks to Taamar, who looked this over not once but twice and worked her magic to get it right. It was a tough one to write! Things start to pick up now and you might even start to see where it's going. I hope you enjoyed finally seeing Ianto. I think the next chapter is going to be even more of a roller coaster by the end. Thank you for all the reviews!


	6. Return

6. Return

How long he was unconscious, Jack had no idea. He heard voices talking around him as he floated through the endless abyss of his inner mind. One voice above all others stayed with him, warm and familiar. Rolling vowels and clipped consonants and a pleasing baritone. He could picture the owner's lips and eyes, and imagined him dressed in a three-piece suit with a sharp red tie. Yet it was impossible; Ianto could not have come back for him. He was gone, living a new life somewhere, free of Torchwood.

And yet when he awoke, Jack could not help but glance around the room, searching for the voice and the man he was certain it belonged to, though he knew he'd find nothing but the memory of words, a dream, perhaps, of his entranced mind.

_"I'm nothing but a blip in time to you, Jack."_

"Oh Ianto," Jack said, closing his eyes to hold back the tears. "You were never just a blip in time."

But no one heard him, and Jack was alone once more.

* * *

><p>When he asked, Jack was told that someone from UNIT had helped them solve the mystery of the phone lines, a man by the name of Broderick Cole. Jack, of course, knew nothing, having been unconscious the entire time. Gwen, Rhys, Martha, and Jake had only hazy memories of the man, able to recall important facts but not minor details. Jack immediately had his suspicions.<p>

He contacted UNIT to thank them for their assistance, but the commander he spoke to had no idea what Jack was referring to. Yes, Broderick Cole worked for UNIT, but he was currently assigned to the Black Archives in London.

CCTV for the hospital where Jack stayed was no help; it had been down for most of his time there. Doctors and staff described a tall, brown-haired man with a beard and glasses, dressed casually in khakis and a blue shirt and carrying the appropriate UNIT credentials. He was young, English, polite, and had come and gone with little interaction, remaining in Jack's room for the entire time he had been at the hospital. What was strange was that his team remembered a Welsh accent.

Jack couldn't help but hope. He wanted to believe it was Ianto, though he couldn't imagine Ianto with a beard and glasses, let alone in khakis and not a suit. And working for UNIT? Tosh had searched everywhere for Ianto, right up until her death. She would have found him if he had gone to UNIT.

Nevertheless, Jack pushed the matter, growing more determined to find answers every time he met a new dead end. He came up with a reason to go to UNIT headquarters-something about a recent Rift acquisition that needed cross-referencing. Yet when he arrived in London and met with a pencil pusher named Bryan Wells, he was told that Broderick Cole was dead.

Jack left the Tower of London without even bothering with the Black Archive, since he didn't fancy having his memory messed with yet again. He wandered to a bench along the river not far from the area and let his head fall into his hands.

He had been so hopeful that this man, Broderick Cole, might in fact be Ianto Jones. He couldn't explain why, other than hazy memory and gut instinct that Ianto had been with him in the hospital. He remembered the man's voice as if he had heard it only yesterday, and ached with the memory of late night talks, early morning welcomes, dry wit wrapped in an accent that he'd never forget. Yet again he had hoped to find Ianto Jones, chasing ghosts through the shadows of his mind, and yet again he had found only heartbreak and disappointment.

Glancing up from where he was sitting, Jack tried not to react as he noticed a man watching him from nearby. The man was tall, with brown hair and glasses and a beard…and an oh-so-familiar three-piece suit. A black, pinstriped suit that fit him perfectly. Jack's heart leapt in his chest as he rose casually from the bench, but the man turned, taking a mobile call, and began to walk away. Jack followed as quickly as he dared through the crowds.

When he caught up to where he had seen the man, he found no trace of him, no sign of what direction the man had gone. He had disappeared into the crowds. Jack searched anywhere and everywhere he could think of, before calling the Hub to speak with Jake. Jack asked the tech to go into London CCTV in the Tower area and run facial recognition for Ianto Jones.

Jack could almost hear the other man frown. Jake was his newest team member, and Jack had not developed a close relationship with him, but he knew that Gwen and Martha had told Jake about Ianto. Jake Rogers was aware of the emotional baggage that Jack carried regarding Ianto's decision to leave Torchwood, but the Scotsman rarely said anything. He did his job and he did it well. At times Jack wished he could let the man in, but it was too hard. Except for Gwen, he'd lost everyone from his first team; he would not make the same mistake and grow close to his new team members only to lose them again.

Jake did as he was asked, and within ten minutes he had a hit and sent Jack a grainy CCTV screen capture of the man who had been watching Jack. According to the software, the image was a strong match for Ianto Jones, but there was a higher probability that it was a man by the name of Alun Matthews. Matthews was a computer engineer originally from Swansea and now living in London, though a cursory search offered little more information than that.

Jack wasn't sure what to think. Was Broderick Cole really Ianto, working for UNIT? Why had they told him Cole was dead? Or was Alun Matthews actually Ianto Jones, now a computer engineer in London who still wore three-piece suits and maybe, just maybe, had recognized Jack by the Tower?

He filed it all away. He had met a literal dead end with Broderick Cole, but Alun Matthews had given him another possible lead. If Ianto was out there somewhere, Jack would find him this time. He wasn't giving up, because he believed, deep down, that Ianto had been the one to come to him in the hospital. That meant that Ianto had remembered something of his old life, and one day Jack would find him and tell him everything he'd wanted to say.

* * *

><p>Unfortunately, Jack did not get a chance to track down Alun Matthews. As if sensing that Jack was healthy again, the Rift became active, keeping him busy in Cardiff for weeks. He had no chance to do anything more than search for the man late at night on his computer, when he was too tired yet too wired to sleep after one chase or another. Though his computer skills were reasonable—he was certainly better than Gwen or Martha—he was still not as good as Jake, or Ianto, or especially Tosh. Tosh would have found Matthews by now, known everything about the man from his street address to the size of his shoes. Jack struggled to track down his bank records even as he fought administrators, assassins, and viruses during the day.<p>

And then the Earth was pulled from its orbit by the Daleks, and for one brief, panic stricken moment, Jack lost all hope of survival, let alone of finding Ianto. In the midst of the attack, however, hope returned in the form of the Doctor, and with the help of several former companions, the planet was saved yet again, with Torchwood right up front, leading the way.

The Doctor returned everyone to their homes, leaving Jack and Martha to make their way back to the Hub with Mickey Smith. Jack's steps dragged. Martha and Mickey seemed to be hitting it off, but Jack felt left out. Everyone had someone to go home to except him. He had the Hub, and his team, but…it wasn't his home anymore. He worked there, he slept there, but it hadn't felt like home since Ianto had left. Ianto had stayed there with him so often it had been like the Hub was theirs, almost as much as Ianto's flat. Without Ianto, what was Jack returning for? What was keeping him tied to Earth when he had another chance to leave with the Doctor and return to the stars?

Nothing.

He was about to ask Martha for the Doctor's number when his mobile went off, startling him out of a potentially life changing decision. Martha and Mickey turned toward him, waiting. It was Jake Rogers, calling from the Hub.

"Jack, I got a hit on Alun Matthews," he said. "He's turned up in a military hospital in Sydney."

"Sydney?" asked Jack. "What's he doing in Sydney, and how the hell did you pick that up?"

Jake chuckled. "You set it up one night last week, remember? Facial recognition running in every major city with a UNIT base after we found nothing around here."

That's right, he had. He still believed that the man who had come to him in the hospital was Ianto Jones, working as Broderick Cole for UNIT. And he refused to believe that Broderick Cole was dead—perhaps he was now the elusive Alun Matthews. And so after failing to find any hint of the man in the UK, he had set a broader search, focusing on major international cities with a UNIT presence as somewhere to begin. It seemed his efforts were paying off.

"So what's the story?" he asked.

"He was admitted with severe burns. My guess is he narrowly escaped being exterminated, since that seems to be the most common hospital admittance lately. As soon as I tried to get into his hospital records, however, I was blocked."

"Can you get around it?" demanded Jack, hope rising once more.

"I could, but I doubt there will be anything by the time I do. My bet is the block is a temporary firewall stopping outsiders while the information self-destructs."

"Do it," ordered Jack. "Because if that's the case, then we know this man is definitely more than a computer engineer from Swansea."

"He could be undercover," said Jake.

"Exactly. Find out what you can and book me the next flight to Sydney." He paused. "Dammit, it will probably take a while for the airlines to get back up and running, but I want the first flight out, Jake. This is important."

"Understood, Jack," said Jake, and Jack could hear keys clicking in the background. "I'll do my best."

"Thank you." He paused. "Are you really all right? Gwen didn't say much when I talked to her."

"She's worried about Rhys," laughed Jake. "We're fine. A bit banged up, and the Hub looks like shit, but we survived. Hell, we saved the planet!"

"All in a day's work," said Jack, laughing with him in spite of his negativity moments earlier. "You'd think we'd get more personal days or something."

"I'll take a bonus anytime. And I am totally going on a bender once this is all cleaned up," said Jake. "You're welcome to join me, you know. You deserve it too."

Jack smiled. It wasn't the first time Jake had invited Jack out, and it wasn't the first time Jack had said no. He knew Jake wasn't interested in him sexually, but he wasn't interested in the former UNIT officer platonically. He'd done the friendship thing with his team only to be burned time and time again. And at times it still felt like Jake was replacing Tosh, or Owen, or Ianto. As irrational as it was, he wasn't quite ready to accept that they were gone by embracing his new team.

"Someday I'll take you up on that," said Jack, and to his surprise, he meant it. He did deserve it after all he'd been through recently, but more importantly, hope inspired him. If he found Ianto in Australia, perhaps he could move on. Jack needed to know if the man was alive and well. Once he knew, he could let it go. Maybe he'd call the Doctor then. Because until he knew for sure, Jack wasn't leaving.

"I'll hold you to it," said Jake. "All right, I'm going to start hacking, and then book one first class ticket to Oz. You coming back to the Hub?"

Jack nodded even though the man couldn't see him. "Martha and I are on the way. And we'll be bringing a visitor."

"I'll get out the fine china and order some pizza and beer, then," said Jake. "See you soon."

"Thanks, Jake."

Jack hung up and smiled at Martha and Mickey. Martha, however, narrowed her eyes.

"I know that look," she said. "What are you up to?"

"I'm going Down Under," he replied with a grin. He put an arm around both of their shoulders. "Which means you two need to keep an eye on things for me."

"Two?" asked Mickey, and Jack laughed for the first time in weeks.

* * *

><p>It was several days before Jack made it to Sydney. And by then, Alun Matthews was long gone, leaving little behind in terms of useful information. Not that Jack didn't try to track him down, find out anything he could. He pulled out all his old tricks and turned on the charm full blast, but it was as if the man knew he was being followed and had completely erased his tracks. Alun Matthews was apparently damn good at disappearing, which was yet another reason Jack was so determined to find him. Ianto had been good at that, too.<p>

When he showed the grainy picture of the man in London to hospital staff, they nodded, confirming that Matthews had been their patient. Jake had been correct in that the man had been badly burned, most likely by a Dalek, suffering second and third degree burns on his left arm. That he had survived at all was a bit of a miracle. Daleks shot to kill; the man should have been exterminated.

The doctor would tell him nothing else, citing patient confidentiality even when Jack flashed his credentials in the name of the British government. Frustrated, Jack left the hospital feeling almost as lost as he had when he'd gone to Caernarfon so many months before, only to find another man in place of the one he had been hoping to find. He had been so close to finding Alun Matthews, only to lose the trail once more. Yet perhaps he should keep faith, that this man was really the one he was seeking, if only because he was so hard to find.

Alun Matthews had virtually disappeared from existence by the time Jack returned to Cardiff. He'd asked Jake to try running him down, but the tech had come up with nothing other than a confirmation that yes, the man had returned to the country via Heathrow airport. After that, there was nothing—no credit card trail, no CCTV, nothing. Swearing virulently, Jack knocked a few things about in his office before crashing onto the couch and letting his head fall back. Just like that, hope had left him empty handed. He was almost certain he had been on to something, but they had no more leads. None. He had no way of finding Ianto short of running into him on the street somewhere again.

He could march into UNIT headquarters and demand to know the truth about Broderick Cole and Alun Matthews, but Jack knew deep down that UNIT would never cooperate. And it was possible, however unlikely, that they weren't even aware of Ianto. If Ianto had created a new identity for himself and presented his new life to UNIT, they might have accepted it. Or they might have taken him prisoner; maybe they were forcing him to work for them.

In the far corner of his mind, it occurred to Jack that perhaps Ianto had gone to UNIT with his memories fully intact, but the thought made him sick to even contemplate, that the Welshman could have done such a thing, leaving them—leaving _him—_behind without looking back.

Jack glanced up when there was a knock at the door. It was Jake, looking sympathetic. "Ready for that bender yet?" he asked without preamble. Jack raised an eyebrow in surprise. Jake shrugged.

"Okay, how about a drink then? I convinced Mickey I'm not going to bite and we're heading to the Dockside to celebrate his first week of not dying. You should join us." He paused. "One drink, Jack. It will do you good to get out, take your mind off it for a while."

Jake didn't say anything about what Jack needed to get his mind off of, for which he was grateful. They didn't have that kind of relationship; they barely had a normal employer-employee relationship, let alone something resembling a friendship. It was perhaps one of the first times Jake had spoken to Jack so personally. Yet maybe the Scot was right, and Jack needed to stop obsessing over these mysterious names and faces. Oh, he wouldn't give up, not by a long shot, but looking at another dead end, maybe he needed to stop and recoup. Pull himself together. He had a new team member to train, and a hell of a lot of clean up to help with. And who knew what the move across the galaxy would do to the Rift; it could get ugly if past events were any indication. Placing his hands on his knees, Jack nodded as he pushed himself up.

"I think I'll take you up on it," he said. "Thanks."

He'd let himself go out, have some fun, maybe even get laid; it had been eight months, after all. It might clear his head, let him refocus on what he wanted. He would start looking for Ianto again in a few days, but that night, he would put it aside and try to be normal.

Because normal never lasted, and he needed to grasp it when he could, with or without the man who had once been his only connection to a more normal life.

* * *

><p>Jack was glad he had gone out with Jake and Mickey. One night out had given him release and a renewed perspective, and when the sewers started vomiting Weevils left and right the following week, he was glad for the brief reprieve. It took away his time searching for Ianto, but it also kept him busy, which was good because he still hadn't figured how or where continue his search.<p>

Jake and Mickey started going to the pub regularly, sometimes with Martha, sometimes dragging Gwen and even Rhys out as well. Jack joined them when he could, feeling himself growing attached to this new team more than he wanted, but unable to stop himself. Gwen was happy with Rhys, Mickey was clearly interested in Martha, and Jake was slowly becoming a close male friend—something Jack had missed since Ianto had left and Owen had died. He couldn't help but enjoy the feeling of not being lonely, though a day didn't pass when he didn't wish Ianto was there with his coffee, his smile, his support.

After the Weevils came all sorts of strange cases, including a trip to Japan, and it was almost six weeks later that Jack realized it was Ianto's birthday. It reminded him of his continued search for Alun Matthews, and as he sipped his second cup of coffee that morning, he vowed to go to London to try to find out anything he could. Maybe the UNIT man he'd met with before, Bryan Wells, would be willing to talk to him again. Yet an invasion of alien arachnids kept them all running over Cardiff for over thirty-six hours, and he celebrated victory at the pub with Jake, Mickey, and Martha before tumbling into bed for twelve hours straight. London would have to wait.

It wasn't until September that Jack realized he had not done anything to try to locate Ianto for several days. Yes, he'd been busy, and yes, he still thought about the man every day, but it was as if he had passed through both his depression and his obsession, in part because of so many failures, in part because of being so busy, and in part because of the new team he was finally accepting. Jack hated that he felt guilty; he was not a man to give up something that was important to him. Ianto had left, and in the back of his mind Jack hoped that they met again someday, but until then, he still had a job to do. He had lost his way, particularly after losing Tosh and Owen, and though he had not found peace with his loss or comfort in the arms of another, he had found meaning in his life's work again.

Which was, of course, when it all went to hell.

The children froze one morning, their frightening unison voices sending shivers through them all. Jack sent Gwen and Martha to find the one adult who seemed to share in the strange experience. He went to see his daughter, wanting to check on Steven, yet also hoping he might find something useful. Jake and Mickey worked on the strange signal from the Hub, trying to understand what it was, how it worked, and who was causing it.

Returning to the hospital where he and Mickey had found an alien hitchhiker earlier that day—and the doctor who was far more interested in Torchwood than he should be—Jack tried to use that interest to his advantage, only to be shot. He woke to find Rupesh Patanjali dead beside him. Hurrying back to the Hub, Jack hoped the rest of his team were safe; something else was going on beside the unusual incidents with the children.

He walked into to the Hub to find Gwen and Martha staring at the scanner in the medical bay, Mickey and Jake watching them from above.

"Is that what I think it is?" Jack asked, grinning broadly at the tiny red pinprick of light glowing in Gwen's pelvis.

She looked at him with wide-eyes, both terrified and exhilarated. "I'm pregnant," she said.

"I noticed," laughed Jack, coming up to her and kissing her cheek. "Who's the lucky guy?"

She slapped him playfully on the arm before staring at the wall again. Jack turned to the others. "If we weren't in the middle of a crisis, and I hadn't been shot earlier, I'd break out the champagne, but—"

He was stopped from finishing his sentence by a call from his mobile phone from a number he didn't recognize.

"Jack Harkness, uncle to be," he said, still grinning.

"Jack!" exclaimed a voice on the other line…a voice he recognized…Welsh accent and lush baritone…oh god, it couldn't be, not now…

"Jack, can you hear me? Are you there?" The voice was panicked, and Jack shook himself from his shock that this call would come at this time from this man.

"I'm here," he croaked, then cleared his throat. "I'm here, and I'm…I'm…Ianto?" he whispered, turning away from the others when they all glanced at him in surprise. "Is it really you?"

"Yes, it's me," said the man on the other line. "Jack, I can't explain, but you have to trust me. There's a bomb about to go off in the Hub."

Jack froze, whipping around toward the others. Of course he trusted Ianto, he had trusted the Welshman more than anyone for months before Ianto had left. "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure. Get them out, get everyone out. Now!" The man's voice cracked. "But you can't…God, Jack, I don't know how to tell you…"

"Tell me what?" Jack demanded. "What's going on?"

"Get them out," Ianto shouted. "The bomb is inside you! You have to get them out before it explodes."

"Oh my god," Jack breathed, then lowered the phone to address the others. "Get out," he barked, waving his hands toward the exit. "Get out right now, don't even grab your coats. Go!"

"What's going on, Jack?" asked Gwen, coming toward him. He backed away, hands up, and she stopped. "Was that Ianto? What did he say?"

"There's a bomb in the Hub," Jack snapped. "You have to get out, all of you." He glanced at the others, still unmoving. "Now! He doesn't know when it will go off!"

"You're not staying, are you?" asked Gwen.

"Get her out," Jack demanded, pointing a finger from Martha to Gwen. "She's having a baby. You get her out and keep her safe. That's an order." He turned toward the others, eyeing Mickey first. "And you make sure they both get out, watch over them. Jake, you—"

But Jake had run toward the other side of the Hub, fingers flying across the keyboard of his computer. "Go!" barked Jack at the other three. "Now!"

Gwen started to protest, but Martha grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the cog door. Mickey followed, but turned back.

"You better be behind us, Captain Cheesecake," he said, looking far more serious than Jack had ever seen him.

"As soon as I can," Jack replied. It wouldn't be for a while, if what Ianto said about the bomb within him was true.

"Jake, follow them! That's an order!" Jack scowled at the man, still running from keyboard to keyboard.

"I'm locking down the archives and engaging the backup server, then I'm out of here," Jake said. "We can't lose all this stuff."

"It's not worth your life!" Jack hissed. He dimly heard Ianto shouting his name on the phone.

"It's not worth the planet," Jake snapped back. "There could be something down there that will stop whatever's going on with the children."

Jack swore again and put the phone to his ear. "Ianto? Ianto, are you all right? What's going on?"

"I'm fine, Jack, although I'll probably be charged with treason for calling you." There was a nervous laugh on the other end of the phone. "I'll be in Cardiff as soon as I can."

"What?" asked Jack. "Where are you now? How did you know about the bomb?"

"I'm in...well, I'm not in Cardiff," said Ianto. "And I can't really talk, your phone is probably being monitored." There was a pause. "Which means they almost certainly know I've called you. Shit, I need to get out of here. Is everyone out of the Hub?"

"Yes," said Jack. "Everyone except Jake, he's locking down the archives. How did you know about the bomb?"

"Jack, did you die recently?" asked Ianto, apparently throwing caution to the wind when it came to revealing that particular secret over the phone.

"A few hours ago, yeah," said Jack. "It was very strange."

"That's when they did it, then. It's something to do with the children. Something they're trying to cover up, I think. I'll be there as soon as I can, but I'm going to have to be discreet." There was a pause, and for some reason, Jack imagined Ianto running around his flat, throwing things into a bag. "Jack, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I didn't know sooner, that I can't help, can't stop it—"

"You've done more than enough," Jack said. "You've saved the others."

"But you…you'll be…" Ianto trailed off, and Jack shuddered at the unsaid thought.

"Yeah," he said softly. "Yeah, I will."

"You'll be blown to bits," Ianto whispered, and again Jack noticed the break in his voice.

"I'll come back," Jack said. "I always do."

"You'd better, Jack. I think you're the only one who can stop this."

"Ah, so that's all I'm good for, saving the planet?"

Jake rushed by, shaking his head at the joke. "See you topside," he whispered. Jack nodded, watching as the man hurried toward the cog door, then turned his attention back to the phone.

There was silence for a moment. "Jack, I don't…I don't know what to say…it's been so long…"

"We'll talk when you get here," said Jack. He desperately wanted to know where Ianto had been, why he was in London, how he knew the Hub was going to be bombed…but he wanted to do it in person. He wanted to see Ianto for himself, see him and touch him and smell him and taste him. Even after so many months, the simple sound of the man's voice, calling to warn him of the threat against Torchwood, had brought back all his thoughts and feelings in one great rush. No matter what happened, he was not going to lose Ianto Jones again.

"I'm sorry," said Ianto, his voice a low whisper. "I want you to know that, and I need you to believe me. I'm sorry, because I—"

There was a noise that sounded like a click, and the line went dead.

"Ianto!" Jack shouted. "Ianto Jones, don't you disappear on me again!"

It was no use; there was no answer, and before Jack could dial the number back, his own life went blank as the bomb within him exploded, throwing him into darkness with more pain than he had ever experienced before in all his many deaths.

* * *

><p><span>Author's Note:<span>

See what we're doing yet? I hope you enjoyed this chapter, although I apologize for the cliffhanger. Wait, no I don't -I love them! Thank you to Tamaar for beta-reading this chapter. I worked her hard on it and it's much better for her brilliance. I did say things would pick up, so hold on tight, because here we go! Do review and let us know what you think! Thanks again! :)


	7. Day One

7. Day One

Ianto stared at the phone in his hand. He wasn't sure whether the line had been disconnected or if the bomb had gone off. Either way, he didn't have much time. He needed to get out of there, because he knew only too well what the government was capable of. There was no doubt they had been monitoring Jack's phone, and because Ianto had called Jack to warn him about the bomb, they would without doubt trace the call and find him.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath to focus. They would certainly consider what he had done to be treason, and he could not risk being taken into custody, waiting for UNIT to work it out. He didn't have the time. He needed to get to Cardiff and to Jack. Something was going on, and Ianto needed to help, not be thrown into a cell until it was all over and his handler could work it out.

If they didn't kill him first, of course.

While Jack was the primary target, Ianto suspected all of Torchwood was in danger. And given his former relationship with both Torchwood One and Torchwood Three, that put Ianto in danger as well. No matter how many new identities he'd gone through since leaving Cardiff, they would eventually be traced back to Ianto Jones, and the game would be up.

He had an escape kit, of course. Rummaging through the wardrobe in his bedroom, Ianto pulled out a locked fireproof box and took out all his former identity papers, a pistol and silencer, a burn phone, cash, and several other small necessities his training had dictated he include. He stared at the mobile, debating whether to activate it, when it occurred to him that any calls he made on his own mobile could endanger the person he spoke to.

Quickly activating the untraceable phone, Ianto paced as he dialed his handler's number. It was still a risk, but a necessary one. And when they traced his current identity to his former one as Ianto Jones, they would likely trace him to Bryan no matter what. Hopefully the situation would be contained and sorted by that point.

Bryan picked up on the second ring. "Wells speaking."

"Bryan, it's Marc," said Ianto, almost slipping and using his given name. Bryan was well aware of Ianto's real identity, but that wasn't who he was at the moment, not exactly. He was now Marc Howell, undercover agent for UNIT Broadsword and current UNIT alien liaison to Thames House, and Bryan Wells was his handler and mentor.

"Marc!" the other man exclaimed. "Jesus, kid, what the hell is going on? The chatter is sky high, and I'm not only talking about the kids."

"I know, it's been a hell of a day," Ianto couldn't help but laugh somewhat hysterically. "Look, I think my cover is blown. I need to go underground."

There was silence. "You're going to Cardiff." It was a statement, not a question, and Ianto nodded even if Bryan couldn't see him.

"Something's going on with Torchwood. They blew up the Hub." His voice cracked on that last, and Ianto wiped away angry tears as he imagined Jack, and all the others, dead on the Plass.

"Who?" asked Bryan.

"Whoever issues blank page orders from Whitehall. It was given to Johnson and her team."

"Shit."

"Exactly. As soon as the children started chanting, Dekker grinned like a maniac. He said 'They're back!' and ran off to Whitehall to see Frobisher. When I saw him later, I asked him if it was something that Torchwood should be brought in on. He said they were being taken care of."

"Did you get anything else out of him?" asked Bryan. Ianto could practically see the wheels turning in his mentor's mind, trying to make the connections, just as Ianto had been trying to do all day.

"Not really, but whatever is sending that signal through the children has been here before, and Torchwood had something to do with it. He said they're known as the 456 because that's the frequency they use. I did some more digging and found the blank page, so I contacted Delta Vega." Delta Vega was their mole on Johnson's hit team. Ianto had taken a chance in contacting the secret agent, but it had been necessary. "As soon as I knew what was going on, I called them."

"You called who?" said Bryan. "Torchwood?"

"I called Jack," said Ianto softly, standing and staring at a blank spot on the wall. "They put a bomb in his stomach to take out the Hub. I had to warn him."

There was a low whistle and another curse on the other end of the phone. "Of course you did. And they were probably monitoring Harkness's phone, so they'll be after you for warning them."

"Have you heard anything over there? I know Oduya was at Whitehall to see Frobisher. Not only is something going on with the children, but I think something else is being covered up."

"And it sounds like Torchwood knows about it, so they were taken out to keep it covered up. Damn." Bryan took a deep breath. "All right, first things first. You got your kit?"

"I do. I'm going to need a car."

"We can do that. How long has it been since you had contact with Cardiff?"

Ianto checked his watch. "About fifteen minutes. I should get out of here."

"Get somewhere safe and call me in two hours. I'll see what I can find out in the meantime and come up with a plan. If someone wants Torchwood out of the picture, I think we need to make sure they stay in it."

Ianto went out to the living room, glancing around for anything else he should grab. "Bryan, don't put yourself at risk. You're not a field agent anymore, and this isn't about you, it's about my past and whatever grudge they have against Torchwood."

"I'll do what needs to be done," Bryan snapped, uncharacteristically harsh. "It's not just about you, Marc. If it has to do with the children, then it's much bigger than you and your convoluted past."

"Right." Ianto sighed and ran a hand through his hair as he turned toward the door. "Of course. I'll call in two hours. Just make sure-"

He was cut off as the glass in his front window shattered with a ping, and a bullet shot the phone out of his hand. A shard of hot plastic sliced across his cheek, and he dropped the remains even as he ducked from a second shot. It caught him across the arm, the bullet ripping through his coat and shirt and tearing across his flesh. With a muttered curse, he fell to floor and began to crawl toward the door as another shot rang out. He had to get out, and he had to get out fast, with no time to grab the bag he always kept ready for quick travel. If he was lucky, they weren't waiting for him on the other side of the door; he thumbed the safety on his weapon just in case.

Apparently his luck was holding out, as he made it into the corridor and found it empty. Thinking quickly, he wiped his cheek of blood and left several partial handprints by the stairwell going down. Then he headed up the stairs to the roof. Glancing down, he saw dark shapes slinking through the street toward his flat. He couldn't go down the fire escape, then; he'd be an obvious and easy target. Taking his jacket off, he ripped a hole in the back and tossed it on the metal staircase, hoping it would look like he got stuck and pulled it off to keep running. He then hurried toward the edge of the roof to the other side. Taking a running jump, he leapt to the building next door, rolling onto his injured arm with a sharp gasp and another curse.

There was blood on the rooftop now. He tried to brush as much dirt over it as he could before he noticed a pile of old chimney bricks nearby. After scattering them around his landing point, he made for the stairway, shooting the lock off to get inside. He went all the way down to the lobby, pulled a small keychain from his pocket, and activated the perception filter that he'd made part of his kit, knowing it would be useful should he ever need to run. Taking a deep breath, he walked out onto the road and turned away from his flat, keeping his head down and praying it worked.

As he walked, Ianto touched the long, deep cut on his right cheek again, wiping the smear of blood on his trousers, uncaring of the stains. He was lucky to be alive considering the sniper had literally shot his phone out of his hand, and a spot of blood on his suit was the least of his worries. He needed to get out of London, he needed to get to Cardiff, and he needed to find Jack. Or what was left of him.

God.

Swallowing his horror at the thought of Jack blown into a thousand pieces, Ianto glanced over his shoulder and continued his stealthy run toward…what? Freedom? Impossible. If he escaped with his life, he'd never really be free again. He'd always be running, hiding, fleeing whomever had come after him at his small flat in London. He didn't know who had ordered the hit and didn't understand why they were after him or Torchwood, but he knew that he had to get back to Cardiff. He had to help.

It must have something to do with Jack and Torchwood. Ianto wasn't sure if he was targeted because he had called Jack or because he had worked for Torchwood for several years and been discovered, but either way, he had to get to Jack. UNIT couldn't help him because it was possible, however much he didn't want to believe it, that they were behind it. They were the only ones who knew who he really was, after all.

Then there was the matter of the children and their strange behavior. On top of everything-worrying about Jack, about Gwen, about the others in Hub-Ianto was desperately worried about his family. Rhiannon was strong, but she was probably terrified by what had happened to every child in the country. There was no doubt that David and Mica had been affected; he only hoped that they were safe.

Ianto laughed bitterly to himself, thinking that David would probably find it rather cool. But Ianto knew something was wrong, something so terrible that for some reason the government did not want Torchwood involved, to the point of destroying them all. Even Ianto, who knew nothing. Who had left Torchwood ten months earlier. Who should have been untraceable.

Ianto stopped in his tracks as realization struck. If they had figured out who he really was and where to find him, then they-whoever they were-would also be able to get to his family. They might even be waiting at the estate for him to show up. Which meant he could not go to Rhiannon and the kids, not without a plan that would keep them out of harm's way.

As he stood there, mind turning over a dozen different scenarios, Ianto felt the adrenaline rush of the past hour begin to fade. His hands started to shake. His mind began to race. All he could think about was Jack, and his family, and the fact that he was cut off from almost any sort of assistance. He needed to sit down and regroup and somehow stay alive long enough to figure out what the hell was happening and what to do about it. Yet he was on the run from unknown assassins, where could he go? His flat had been shot at and was probably completely ransacked by now. He couldn't go back to his job at Thames House, he couldn't go to UNIT, and he couldn't go to Bryan Wells. He had no phone, no transportation, not even a clean shirt, and no plan.

Slipping into an alley, Ianto stepped behind a large dumpster and slid down to the dirty ground. He let his head fall between his knees and took deep breaths to stave off the impending panic attack he felt beginning in his gut. He hadn't had one since the nightmare that had been Canary Wharf, but here he was in London, injured and on the run again, alone and cut off from any help. In spite of everything he had experienced since, it was too much like being on the run with Lisa, with no plan, no resources, no hope. Maybe he should give in to the panic, scream and yell until he was empty…

No! Ianto clenched his fists and started counting backwards from one hundred, eyes focused on a small pebble on the pavement. He breathed in with each count and blew out with the next, imagining all the fear and anger being forced into the small stone before him. Slowly but surely he regained control of his racing heart and lungs, and his head began to clear enough for him to think rationally.

He had no phone and no car. The second bullet that had grazed his arm had not gone through, but it was a long, hot burn, throbbing in time with his heartbeat; it would need cleaning and a good wrap. He had no one he could safely contact for help, not if he didn't want to put their life in danger. And then it occurred to him: if he didn't want to put someone he knew in danger, he needed to go to someone who lived under the radar. And he knew someone like that, someone he was hoped could help him, would be willing to help him.

With grim determination, Ianto stood up and made his way toward the nearest main street. He instinctively avoided the CCTV cameras even though his perception filter hid him, until he took it off and hailed a cab on a quiet corner, directing the driver toward the river. He begged off with a headache from a bar fight after work and laid down on the seat; fortunately he had a cabbie who was either not interested or used to drunks collapsing in the back, and Ianto considered what to say to the one man…well, alien…who might help him.

Cornelius Brown ran The Starry Night Café, which was more of a nightclub that served coffee and tea alongside cocktails and beer. He was half human, an exile who had left his homeworld to start over on Earth. He was also from the 26th century, a fact which had made his assistance in sensitive matters regarding alien tech invaluable at times. Ianto had met the alien not long after Bryan had taken him under his wing, and had liked the café owner immediately. For some reason, Cornelius reminded him a bit of Jack: out of his time, alone and sometimes ostracized because he was different than others, but always seeing good in the world and willing to fight for his adopted homeland.

The Starry Night catered to a mixed clientele of eccentric native Londoners and exiled off-worlders. The back room was for aliens only. Ianto had been there a few times, each one an experience he'd never forget, even after all he'd seen with Torchwood. It truly amazed him that so many aliens called London home, and at the same time it made his heart soar, that they were alive and successful and perhaps even happy there. Bryan had told him that the shadow of Torchwood had loomed over London for years, but with the fall of One at Canary Wharf, the small alien community-a few dozen at most-had slowly begun to come out more.

Aliens like Cornelius Brown even helped when they could. Oh, he preferred to be left alone, no doubt, but he was close to Bryan (a story Ianto still could not pull from his handler, although he knew it had something to do with Torchwood One) and had quickly transferred his trust to Ianto. He was Ianto's best chance at escaping London undetected, and he would ask for as little as possible from the alien, knowing he was putting the entire café in danger. More than anything, he needed transportation.

Ianto had the cab drop him off a few streets away, then stuck to alleys with his head down as he quickly and quietly made his way to the Starry Night. It was exceptionally quiet, which did not surprise Ianto given the strange events with the children that day. People were likely holed up at home, holding their loved ones close, eyes glued to the televisions. Only a handful of patrons sat at the candlelit tables, and where there was often live music, tonight there was only soft jazz playing from the speakers. Ianto glanced around, did not see Cornelius, and went up to the empty bar.

"All right there, mate?" asked the man standing behind it. "You look worse for wear."

"Fight after work," Ianto mumbled, idly rubbing at his cheek again. He didn't think he needed stitches, but some disinfectant and a plaster would be good, especially for his arm. "Is Cornelius around back, Georg?"

The bartender didn't even blink an eye. "Who's asking?"

"Luke Skywalker," replied Ianto, and the man snorted. It was the agreed upon password for the month, known only to those trusted few that Cornelius let into his private domain in the back. The barman nodded once, and Ianto murmured his thanks.

The back room was much like the front, only slightly smaller and more crowded. Which again didn't surprise Ianto. Whatever was happening with the children was extraterrestrial in origin, and it seemed natural that London's resident aliens would sense it and then gather to discuss it. They glanced up at him, almost as one, and Ianto froze on the spot. There were several more looks of hostility than he had expected and a few low growls. He wondered if this had been a good idea after all.

"It is all right, Mr. Cole," said Cornelius Brown, and Ianto couldn't help a glance of confusion until he remembered that was his name when he had met Cornelius, when he had first joined UNIT. It had been such a long day already that he had almost slipped, and he knew he would need to be vigilant if he was going to survive. "We are all a bit on edge."

"I noticed," said Ianto, slipping into the accent Broderick Cole used and nodding toward the others, who had slowly drifted back to their own conversations, though a few still watched him warily.

Cornelius led Ianto toward the small bar in the corner, tucking Ianto onto a stool and pulling out some sort of bootleg liquor he liked to push on Ianto each time he was there. Ianto watched him pour, idly wondering what, if anything, Cornelius might know; he trusted Cornelius because he knew Bryan trusted the alien.

Cornelius Browne appeared quite human, aside from a few quirks easily explained away. He looked just past middle age, with a medium build and nondescript black hair gone more than half grey. Startling violet eyes, hidden behind dark spectacles, and a series of indigo dots running down from his temple in a complex pattern on both sides of his face to his jaw set him apart, however. He could pass for human, though he preferred to stay in rather than cover up or explain his physical differences.

"How are things in your line of work today?" asked Cornelius, sliding the drink over. Ianto sipped at it and felt his body immediately relax, tension draining from his shoulders in waves. Cornelius always knew exactly what to serve and he had done so again, the warm liquor spreading through Ianto yet not dulling his thoughts.

"Difficult," said Ianto, earning a raised eyebrow from Cornelius. "I'm not sure anyone knows exactly what's going on. You wouldn't happen to know anything, would you?"

The alien shook his head. "I have never seen anything like it, and neither has anyone else. It is all anyone has been talking about all day. And no one believes it to be benign."

Ianto snorted into his glass. Every child around the world stops and speaks with one creepy voice? Of course it wasn't benign. It was alien, and it was hostile. There was no doubt about it. If there had been, those doubts had been erased when someone had bombed Torchwood and tried to kill Ianto.

"No, something is going on. Torchwood Cardiff was targeted."

Cornelius raised an eyebrow. Ianto knew none of the aliens present had any love for Torchwood, but the fact that the country's once biggest line of defense against alien incursion had been taken down in the wake of the latest extraterrestrial event was something no one could deny: trouble.

"I see," murmured Cornelius, obviously turning it over. "And have you spoken to Mr. Wells?"

"I have," said Ianto, sipping more of his drink. "I used to work for them."

"For Torchwood?" asked Cornelius, unable to hide his surprise. If Ianto imagined disappointment as well, he tried to push it from his mind, hoping that Cornelius would not throw him out on the street.

"I left Cardiff almost a year ago," Ianto said, lowering his voice. "Tonight it was destroyed. There is no doubt in my mind that there's a connection between their destruction and what's going on with the children."

"I should think so," nodded the alien. He frowned and pointed a slim finger to Ianto's face and arm. "And that? I am guessing that you were targeted as well, for your former association?"

Ianto laughed bitterly. "They shot my phone right out of my hand."

"You are a lucky man, then," Cornelius murmured. "I hate to ask, Mr. Cole…but were you followed here?"

Ianto shook his head. "I had a perception filter, I know how to avoid CCTV, and I've disappeared before, so no, I wasn't followed. But I need your help, Cornelius. Not much, but enough to get me to Cardiff. I need a car, maybe a phone, some bandages before I bleed all over everything. Something big is going on, and there's a reason someone doesn't want Torchwood involved."

Cornelius stared at him, eyes narrowed shrewdly. "You think that your government is targeting its own? Why would they take out a potential ally? As well as a friend of the Crown?"

Ianto shook his head with frustration. That was a damn good question. Did Buckingham Palace know about the attempt on Torchwood? "I don't know, but Bryan is working his damnedest to find out. Maybe Torchwood knows something about what's happening that the government doesn't want to get out. Maybe they are the only ones who can stop what's going on. But I need to get there. I'm not safe here."

"Mr. Cole," Cornelius murmured. "You will not be much safer there."

"I know, but at least I can try to find them, figure out why they were targeted. I still have contacts in Cardiff who can help. Can you get me there?"

The alien studied him silently, his face impassive. "You are asking much of me, Mr. Cole."

Ianto let his eyes slip shut and hung his head. "I know. I'm sorry. I didn't know where else to go. You're the most invisible person I could think of, the only one who could help me without incurring more risk."

Strangely enough, the alien's chest puffed out a bit at that. "I did not say I would not help," said Cornelius. "From what I have heard amongst the tables, everyone is frightened. Aliens that swoop down on planets and control their children are almost never friendly."

"Exactly my thoughts as well," said Ianto dryly. "My biggest worry is that with Torchwood out of the way, the government is going to make a deal with them, rather than fight back."

"Perhaps they do not need to fight," Cornelius pointed out. Ianto shook his head.

"My gut tells me this is a bad situation. Friendly contact is not initiated through fear."

The alien nodded slowly. "I agree, and I will do what I can. Finish your drink, and I will be back in a few moments."

Before Cornelius walked away, Ianto asked after the nearest loo. Cornelius paused and motioned him to follow. "You can use the one in my flat. You will need some other clothing, since your shirt is ruined and you don't want to look more suspicious. I will gather what you need while you clean and change upstairs."

Ianto laid a hand on Cornelius's shoulder. "Thank you. You didn't have to do this, and I appreciate it."

Cornelius patted his hand and smiled before turning away. "It is no matter. Bryan did the same for me once, when I first came here. There are times when I feel like I can never do enough to repay him for that. I am honored to help his protégé."

"Protégé?" asked Ianto with a small laugh. "Hardly. I've not been around long enough, and I'm sure he's trained far more capable agents."

"He thinks very highly of you," Cornelius said. "Therefore, if you believe Torchwood is involved in this, and that you need to go to Cardiff to figure it out, we will get you to Cardiff."

Ianto swallowed over the lump in his throat, grateful for the support and touched by Cornelius's words regarding his handler. Though he had known Bryan Wells for less than a year, he had quickly grown to respect and admire his mentor at UNIT. Bryan had honed Ianto's skills and experiences at Torchwood into something even sharper, even better. Bryan was brilliant and had saved Ianto's life more than once. He was proud to think that Bryan thought well of him, in spite of his mistakes.

They entered Cornelius's flat, which was above the café. Cornelius directed Ianto to the bathroom, where he began to peal off his clothes and examine the minor injuries to his face and arm. He really was damn lucky. What kind of crack shots missed their target twice in a row? Granted, he had been pacing when the first shot had blown apart his phone, and then ducking and running from the second. There had been more after that, enough that Ianto was fairly sure he wouldn't be getting the deposit back on his flat.

The inane thought about his flat made him laugh, and he put his hands on the sink, leaning his head over to let the laughter-so close to tears-roll over him until there was a knock on the door. Wiping his eyes, he found Cornelius there with a change of clothes, jeans and a jumper that were so far from his style that it was almost a perfect disguise. Another nervous laugh escaped him, and Cornelius raised an amused eyebrow.

"Take a shower, Mr. Cole. I will leave some food out and be back with what you need in twenty minutes."

So Ianto cleaned himself, dressing in the dark jeans and jumper and running a hand through his wet hair. He checked the medicine cabinet for bandages and found some gauze to wrap around his upper arm. It was sore, but he could deal with it. Mostly he didn't want it to become infected. The cut on his cheek would have to wait. Padding back out into the flat, Ianto found a jam sandwich with crisps and fruit on a plate, along with a glass of milk. It was like a school lunch, almost, and he grinned for the first time in hours, genuinely pleased.

He hadn't had anything since that morning, and with the stress of the past few hours, Ianto found he was incredibly hungry, enough to have probably scrounged for a second sandwich if Cornelius hadn't returned at that moment.

"I have a phone," he started, and Ianto nodded.

"Untraceable, I hope?"

"We keep a number of phones downstairs," Cornelius replied with a shrug. "It was Bryan's idea, actually. I have activated it and will send the number to Bryan shortly. I have also taken several hundred pounds from my safe." He paused. "And Georg offered his car, he said that he needed a new one anyway. We will report it stolen in the morning. Make sure you take the gun in the glove compartment."

Ianto stared at him, stunned at his efficiency and generosity. He wanted to hug the man before him, but Cornelius shook his head and stepped back. "As I said, it is no more than Bryan once did for me. And if I can help you, and you can help the children, then it is a noble thing."

"You are a good, good man, Cornelius," Ianto said, his voice breaking. He wiped his face and took the offered items.

"I'm simply doing my part in what will certainly be a much bigger picture," he answered. "Leave your suit, we will dispose of it. I imagine Bryan will contact you soon, once you are out of the city. You can make your plans then." Taking a deep breath, the alien held out his hand. "And if you need anything else, please get me word. We will do what we can."

"Thank you," Ianto whispered, this time throwing caution to the wind and embracing Cornelius Browne. "Thank you for everything."

"You are quite welcome. Now, do your job. Get these aliens away from the children."

He showed Ianto out the back way, pointing out Georg's old, beat up Vectra. Ianto cringed a little on the inside, but if it got him to Cardiff, he couldn't complain. He was already wearing someone else's clothing, carrying someone else's phone and money. What did it matter if he was driving a twenty-year-old family sedan? He would have to ditch it in the morning when it was reported stolen anyway.

Reaching into the glove compartment, Ianto felt a sense of relief when he found the semi-automatic there exactly as Cornelius had said. He wondered what it was that Georg did besides tend the bar.

Pulling out into the dark London night, Ianto headed north toward the A40, planning a more circuitous route on the vague chance that he might be followed or tracked. He'd double back down to the M4 toward Cardiff once he felt more settled, or perhaps when he heard from Bryan. He wasn't sure it was a wise idea for his handler to contact him, but Ianto needed any information he could get.

In the meantime, he settled into a long drive and let his mind drift over what he needed to do in Cardiff. He needed to get to the Hub and see what kind of condition it was in, and do so without being seen or caught. He needed to track down the others, assuming his warning had been enough to get them out on time. And most importantly, he needed to find Jack…or what was left him. Ianto had no doubt that this could be Jack's most painful resurrection yet. There was a part of Ianto that was terrified Jack might not recover at all.

Pushing aside the horrifying images of Jack's body destroyed beyond recognition, Ianto desperately clung to the belief that Jack would survive. They needed him more than anything. And now that Ianto had spoken to Jack and heard his former lover's voice once more, he would do anything to save Jack and hear it again.

* * *

><p><span>Author's Note:<br>I apologize for the longer wait than normal for this chapter, but the chapters are getting longer and more complicated, and I've almost caught up to myself. I hope to update every other week. So many thanks to Tamaar for her hard work and invaluable assistance hashing out the details. This story wouldn't be written without her! I hope you enjoyed this chapter after the cliffhanger of the last. Do let a girl know! I'd love to hear what you think about it or where you think it's going. Thanks for reading!


	8. Day Two - Ianto

8. Day Two - Ianto

Ianto drove for several hours, his mind too busy for his body to grow tired. He kept turning over the events of the day, from the children chanting, to Dekker's revelation of the aliens known as the 456, to his discovery of the plot against Jack from his contact in the Home Office. It made no sense. Why would Whitehall want Jack and Torchwood out of the picture at such a crucial moment? What was it about the 456 that meant Torchwood needed to be destroyed?

It was well past midnight when his phone finally rang. Knowing it could only be Bryan or Cornelius, Ianto pulled over and answered, keeping his voice low even though it was dark and late, and he was alone.

"Hello?" he asked, not wanting to give away his name if someone had simply dialed a wrong number.

"_Draco dormiens_," said a familiar voice on the other line.

"_Nunquam titillandus_," answered Ianto with an eye roll. It was a ridiculous check, but he heard Bryan laughing on the other end of the phone.

"You love it and you know it," said Wells, still chuckling.

"Secret agents should not use Harry Potter quotations as identity checks."

"Secret agents who grew up reading it, or in my case, reading it to my son, have every right to a bit of levity when things get serious. And things are serious. What happened?"

Ianto sighed and closed his eyes. "They came after me. My flat is probably destroyed. I got out by laying a piss poor trail that might have fooled them for about five minutes, then used the perception filter to get to Cornelius."

"Yes, he contacted me. He said you'd been injured."

"Only a flesh wound." Ianto replied. "I've had worse." Bryan laughed at the joke even as he proceeded to mother hen him. It was becoming all too familiar a routine, Ianto being injured in the line of duty. He wouldn't have thought UNIT to be more dangerous than Torchwood Three.

"Did you clean it? Wrap it? Take anything?"

"Yes, yes, and no." Painkillers would have done him some good, but there had been so many other things on his mind it hadn't even occurred to him. The ache in his arm was still there, but pushed to the back of his mind. "What have you learned?"

"Nothing about why Harkness was targeted, but the hit was definitely on him, and by extension, all other Torchwood personnel. And as of an hour ago, your cover is blown. They're well aware that Ianto Jones phoned Cardiff from the flat of Marc Howell."

"Damn," murmured Ianto. "There goes another name."

"You do seem to go through them, don't you?" said Bryan. Ianto ignored the light teasing. He'd been forced to give up his first identity as Broderick Cole when he'd gone to Cardiff to help Jack in the spring, and then his next cover as Alun Matthews after Jack had tailed him to Australia. He'd been with UNIT for just over eight months and was now on his third. At first it had been exciting to start over with a blank slate every time, to run from yet another mistake, but he was starting to wonder if the reason he'd gone through so many identities was that, deep down, he wanted to be Ianto Jones again.

It occurred to him once more that if they knew who he really was, and that Ianto Jones was connected to Torchwood, his existence put others in danger.

"Bryan, my sister—" he started.

"Already on it," said Bryan. "Rhiannon Davies, Newport, right?"

"If they know who I am, they're in danger."

"Oh, I know," said Bryan. "Believe me, I've played this game before. I've sent someone to the estate. If there's a problem, he'll get them out."

Ianto breathed a sigh of relief before something else occurred to him. "Jack has a grown daughter and a grandson," he said. "She'll be even more at risk if they find out about her."

There was silence on the other end of the line. "So it's true," he murmured. "He's older than he looks." Ianto thought he could hear keys clicking away in the background.

"Yes, it's true. And if they want to keep him quiet, they could use his family to do it."

"I'll get to them as soon as your sister is safe. Got a name for me?"

Ianto took a deep breath. By all rights, this was information he wasn't supposed to know. Jack had not shared it with him in their brief time together, and it was only by accident that Ianto had come across their existence when he'd got Jack's personal finances tangled with Torchwood Three. Being curious, he had managed to track down the mysterious Alice Carter who received such a large sum of money each month, assuming she was an ex-wife. He'd been shocked and saddened to learn she was Jack's daughter, older than Ianto himself, divorced and raising Jack's grandson alone whilst estranged from her father.

"What else?" asked Ianto. "Have you heard anything about Cardiff? The BBC said there was an explosion on the Plass, but didn't say anything about casualties. They're blaming it on terrorists."

"Of course it was terrorists," said Bryan, his voice bitter. "Bloody government terrorists. You're right about Johnson, it was her team sent to neutralize them. They've got orders to track down the rest of the team and take them to Aston Down."

"The rest of the team?" asked Ianto, his breath catching. "So they survived?"

"Hard to tell. I'm not sure Jake survived, because the order only names Cooper, Jones, and Smith." Bryan sounded angry; he had known Jake at UNIT, and from what Ianto had heard, Jake was a good man who had fit in well at Torchwood. "Cooper was taken, but managed to escape. There's no word on the other two."

"And Jack?"

He could hear Bryan sigh through the phone. "They're collecting his remains. Ianto, he couldn't possibly survive that, could he?"

"I don't know," Ianto said, his voice quiet, his heart racing. "If anyone could, it would be Jack. But god…"

"It must be hell," Bryan murmured.

"Yeah," said Ianto, knowing the truth: every death was dark and painful for Jack. Yet recovering from a gunshot wound or even having this guts ripped out by a Weevil couldn't possibly compare to growing back together after being blown up. "I have to find him. If they're trying to kill him and figure out he can't die, who knows what they'll do to him."

"Ianto, he's connected to this somehow," Bryan started.

"Obviously, since they're trying to kill him," snapped Ianto, then immediately apologized. "Sorry, I'm tired…"

"I know, but listen to me. The blank page order was not just for Jack. There were three others, and they're all dead now. Given the timing, it must have something to do with these aliens, the 456. You said they've been here before."

"That's what Dekker said," Ianto murmured. "He seemed almost excited. So if the aliens have been here before, it's possible Jack was there, given his history with Torchwood."

"And for some reason, they don't want him around this time," said Bryan. "Which means we need him."

"Bryan, I…" Ianto trailed off, overwhelmed by his mentor's show of trust in a man he did not know. "Why?" he simply asked.

"Something's not right," said Bryan. "Torchwood is above the police, above the government. Under the direct protection of the Crown. For Whitehall to order its destruction means something is going on that they don't want Torchwood to know about or stop."

"And it has to do with the 456," said Ianto, "who are using the children to communicate."

"It's bad, Ianto," said Bryan, using Ianto's given name. It made Ianto feel more normal, somehow. Ianto Jones was who he really was, regardless of his name, his appearance or his job. It was still ingrained in him, and in spite of the dire circumstances, he was glad to have it back, even if it was temporary.

"So what do we do?" asked Ianto.

"I think you need to go to Aston Down," said Bryan.

"What?" exclaimed Ianto. "You must be joking! That's a secure military compound. How am I supposed to get in there? Barge my way in on a JCB or something?"

Bryan chuckled. "Of course not. You're an undercover agent, Ianto. Think about it."

"I've been shot and run underground, Bryan, I don't have time to think about it," Ianto growled. Normally he rose to the challenge when his mentor pushed him, but now was not the time.

"Okay, here's what I'm thinking. You've got your other identities. I'm reinstating Broderick Cole as a UNIT agent with increased security access and authority."

"You mean bringing him back from the dead?" drawled Ianto. "How biblical."

Bryan ignored him. "You go in and claim Harkness for UNIT questioning. I'll have the orders in the system by morning."

"That's it?" asked Ianto, not even bothering to hide the skepticism in his voice. "I simply walk in and walk out, no questions asked?"

"Oh, I'm sure there will be plenty of questions," said Bryan. "And you answer them. Like I said, I'll do my best to make them believe you from my end, but answer with your gun if you need to."

"Won't they recognize me as Ianto Jones?"

"No, they only know that Marc Howell is Ianto Jones. We worked hard to keep him separate from Cole and Matthews. And you still look different than you did in your Torchwood days."

"But I look like Howell!" Ianto exclaimed.

"Not for long," said Bryan. "Look, I'm sending you to a safe house in Gloucester. Get some rest and fix yourself up. You know the drill, you have to be ready for anything. Everything you need will be waiting for you, along with a UNIT car, so make sure to ditch yours somewhere far away. There's no way Johnson will get back to the base before morning, so you have time. Study the layout I'm sending you, make contingency plans, get in, and get it done."

"So no pressure," Ianto sighed. "Tell me why I work for you again?"

"Because you're good at it," said Bryan. "And because you ran away from your old job for some damn fool reason. Now it's time to step up and help them out."

Ianto flinched. Bryan knew everything, and he was right. Ianto had run from Torchwood, only to find himself doing virtually the same thing with UNIT. Yet now Torchwood needed his help, even though he had left them behind months ago.

"All right, I get it," Ianto sighed. "Sleep, eat, storm the castle. Anything else?"

"Be careful," Bryan said. "Don't get yourself killed."

"I haven't yet, and I'm not about to start now," Ianto replied, forced cheer in his voice. He knew, however, that this was far more serious than his other missions with UNIT. Yes, he'd been injured in both America and Australia, but this was different. He was the target this time. Someone was determined to kill him, and while he could do his best to avoid death by accidental alien entanglement, he had never been the target of an assassination attempt before, only collateral damage.

"Glad to hear it. Contact me in six hours. I'm sending the address of the safe house as a text. Does your getaway car have SAT-NAV?"

"It doesn't even have power locks," Ianto replied dryly.

"Head toward Gloucester. How long will it take you?"

"Ninety minutes," said Ianto.

"Call me when you get close and I'll talk you there. And stay safe."

"You too."

Ianto hung up the phone, started the car, and turned around, heading south toward Gloucester. As he drove, he couldn't help but think that this was the worst plan Bryan had ever come up with in their short time working together.

* * *

><p>The safe house was exactly that: a nondescript two-story tucked into a quaint neighborhood, dead silent in the middle of the night and completely innocuous in its normalcy. Bryan directed Ianto to the back door and gave him the password, and they let him in immediately.<p>

The owners were former UNIT soldiers, retired yet offering their help when needed. After brief introductions, they took Ianto down to the basement, where a guest room was set up for whomever needed it. On the bed he found a new suit, another mobile phone, contacts and glasses, clippers and coloring gel and even makeup. He set it aside for later, checked his arm and took some painkillers from the cabinet above the sink, then fell into bed in his clothes, setting his watch to wake him in six hours.

He slept restlessly, dreams of a burnt-out Hub haunting him until he gave up and rose early. Stepping into the ensuite, he clipped his beard into the style Broderick Cole had worn and trimmed his hair as best as he could. Then he colored it, cringing at the color; it washed him out even more than his natural color, and the dark glasses and hazel contacts did not help. The three-piece suit, however, was practically perfect: black with a wide grey pinstripe, the suit fit surprisingly well, and the blue and silver tie complimented the ensemble. After covering up the cut on his face as best as he could, Ianto glanced into the mirror and sighed. He was growing tired of changing appearances and identities. It had been interesting at first, but the lack of familiarity and routine was growing arduous. If he survived this, he was going to have a serious talk with his mentor about picking one identity and sticking with it like Bryan had.

Then again, Bryan sat at a desk and worked his secret magic from a computer. Ianto was an active field agent, and the risks required different management. He took some time to run through the plans to the base Bryan had sent to his phone, making sure to memorize the floor plan, particularly the exits. His hosts brought him coffee, eggs, and toast, which he practically inhaled. Too often he lost his appetite when nervous, but knowing he needed to keep his strength up apparently overrode his natural tendencies toward not eating before an important mission.

Dialing his handler's number, Ianto was not surprised when Bryan answered immediately. The older man filled Ianto in on what little he had learned since they had last talked, and together they solidified Ianto's bold gambit to get into Aston Down and rescue Jack. UNIT cars had been dropped off in position, the orders to transfer Jack Harkness to UNIT for questioning were in place, and Bryan was planning to block all methods of communication to and from the base once Ianto was on site. How he was able to do something like that, Ianto had no idea; he often thought Bryan and Tosh would have got along fairly well.

"If you block everything into and out of the base, how will I get in touch with you?" asked Ianto. "Am I switching to this other phone? Is it some sort of super-phone?"

"That's not a phone, it's a microburst transmitter," replied Bryan. "Well, it will be, once I tell you how to modify it. Then you'll be able to signal me when you're ready."

"A microburst transmitter disguised as an outdated Nokia," murmured Ianto. "How very 'James Bond'."

"If this were James Bond, Q would already have done this and you'd have spent the night with some pretty young thing. Focus, Ianto; you're going to need steady hands for this. First, crack the case and pull the battery out."

Ianto carefully followed Bryan's directions, ran through the plan once more, then gathered his things. He took several deep breaths before leaving, feeling like he was walking into the proverbial lion's den with nothing but the dubious protection of a modified mobile phone to get him out safely.

Thanking his hosts, Ianto left the safe house feeling like a different man, albeit one he had played before. He walked to the car park, making sure to stay alert, then started the UNIT SUV and headed south toward Aston Down. He ran through every possible scenario he could in his mind, making sure he was able to answer any question thrown at him. One word could be the difference between life and death, and he was determined to survive.

* * *

><p>It was early afternoon when he arrived. The first obstacle was cleared without incident: at the gates to the base, Ianto presented his credentials, the rather ill-trained sentry barely checked them, and Ianto was waved through. He released a breath he hadn't been aware of holding. Making his way to the main building, he once more presented his identification at the front. This guard, however, was far more questioning of Ianto's stated reason for being there. He had expected that, and waited patiently as the officer checked his computer, then picked up the phone and dialed his superior.<p>

Ianto seriously hoped Bryan had jammed communications into and out of the base. If anyone questioned his orders enough to call UNIT or the Home Office, they would find both confused and ignorant of any change in plans. Not to mention should anyone send the base a photograph of Ianto Jones, aka Mark Howell; Ianto was confident enough to bluff, but if they had reason to suspect anything, confirming his identity would only take seconds, and his cover would be blown.

Apparently the phone lines were down, and the guard used his radio to request his superior. Twenty minutes later, a man in black fatigues came out to greet him and introduced himself as Agent Sullivan. Ianto shook his hand and chatted cordially, using the opportunity for small talk to both gather information and gain the man's trust. He remembered at the last minute that this identity spoke in an English accent, not Welsh, and hoped the guard at the desk did not notice the change.

"So it's true, then?" he asked as they walked, wondering if the agent was the anonymous mole within Johnson's crack team that Bryan had ensnared several months ago. "Harkness can't die?"

Sullivan gave him a slightly wild look, as if still trying to come to grips with it. "I've never seen anything like it," he murmured, looking around like he was worried someone would hear him. "They brought him back in pieces, and now he's screaming his lungs out as they grow back together."

Ianto felt sick imagining the horrifying pain Jack must be enduring at that moment as bone grafted to bone and skin regrew over nerves and muscles. He dug his fingernails into his palms, forcing himself to stay focused and not give in to anger and despair. He may have left Jack, but he still cared about the man, and no one deserved what Jack was going through. The pain cutting into his hands focused his fury, and he vowed that whomever had ordered this would be destroyed before it was all over.

"How far along is he?" Ianto replied. Apparently his voice was steadier than he felt, because the man looked at him in surprise.

"It's not a science experiment!" Sullivan said, looking as appalled as he sounded.

"I didn't say it was," Ianto replied evenly. "I only wanted to know the condition of the prisoner."

"Pretty damn bad," the man snapped. "See for yourself."

They stopped in front of a door, and the agent motioned at Ianto to step forward and look through the small window at the top. Steeling himself for a gruesome sight, Ianto gazed into the room and once more felt the bile rise in his throat.

Jack was naked, arms stretched above him and handcuffed to a metal ring. His skin was red and raw, blistered in places, and his hair had only grown partially back. As his hands jerked at the bindings, his face twisted in pain, until he stopped for a moment, seemed to curl in on himself, then let loose an agonizing shriek that curdled Ianto's blood and almost stopped his heart.

"Oh my god." He couldn't help it; the words slipped out, the horror overwhelming. Jack had survived, just as he'd said he would, yet how could he endure such agony?

"Poor bastard," Sullivan murmured. "He needs to be put out of his misery."

Ianto wanted to run the man into the wall, but instead he turned and raised an eyebrow, reaching deep within to maintain the calm façade he needed if he was going to get Jack out of there. "And considering you've shot him and blown him apart, how would you suggest doing such a thing?"

"Boss wants to put him in a concrete box."

Ianto shuddered as he glanced back into the room, where Jack was lying still but breathing heavily. He wished Jack would open his eyes, glance up and see him. It might give him hope that there would be an end to this torment. And Ianto was going to end it, even if he had to shoot his way out of the base with Jack strapped across his back.

"That's barbaric," he offered.

"So is that," the man returned, gesturing at the room, where Jack was screaming once more.

"It's also unnecessary," said Ianto. He drew himself up straight. He was taller and broader than the man before him, and played upon his stature to, if not intimidate, at least make the man take notice and obey. "I'll be taking charge of him. I'll need suitable clothing and a gurney or wheelchair."

The man frowned. "You're taking him now? Before he's all grown back together?"

"He has critical information regarding the current situation in London," Ianto replied. "It's been determined such information could be advantageous and therefore the extermination order has been tabled for the moment. He is to be contained for questioning."

Sullivan shook his head. "As if being blown up wasn't bad enough," he said. "Now he gets to be questioned." He raised air quotes around the final word, tripping bitterly from his tongue, and Ianto nodded in agreement.

"I'm only following orders, as are you. Hopefully he'll not need much convincing."

"Is that what we're calling it now?" the man murmured. "Look, I can't release him without authorization from the agent in charge."

"And who would that be?"

"Agent Johnson," the man replied. "She's on her way."

Ianto swallowed and let his mind begin to go over all those contingency plans he'd gone through on the drive. He'd been hoping to avoid Johnson, though he knew it was unlikely. She was a formidable agent and would be difficult to convince. It was likely that she would recognize him as well—not as Marc Howell or Ianto Jones, hopefully, but as Broderick Cole. Ianto wasn't sure whether that would work to his advantage or not. It was looking more and more probable that he would indeed end up shooting his way out rather than be allowed to walk away unhindered with their prisoner.

"Do have anyone with you?" asked the captain. "He's a large man and could become violent."

"Actually, I—" Ianto started, then stopped short as Johnson appeared at the end of the hallway, black boots clipping a loud staccato on the floor, her face a storm cloud of fury.

"What the hell are you doing here, Cole?" she demanded. In the back of Ianto's mind he was relieved to be recognized as Broderick Cole and not one of his other, more wanted identities. He had little time to dwell on it, however, as Johnson was in his face immediately. "This is my base, my mission, my prisoner."

"Change of plans," Ianto replied smoothly. "We might need him."

"We're supposed to be shutting him up," Johnson pointed out. "Not recruiting him."

Ianto offered a harsh laugh. "Believe me, I have no wish to recruit the man. I'd be happy to leave him with you and your concrete box. But I've been ordered to bring him to London."

Johnson took a step back and continued to stare at him. "You're supposed to be dead, you know," she said, her voice low. "I saw you get shot."

Ianto thought back to the firefight he'd narrowly escaped in Nevada, on his first mission for UNIT. He had been placed in Area 51, and though he'd done as much as he could to contain the situation, it had nevertheless blown up into a multinational incident involving several alien species intent on participating as well. Of course Johnson had been there; it was probably how she had earned command of her own team. He remembered meeting her as things were going to hell: dark, grim, and determined, she was a soldier to the core. They had fought side by side until Ianto had been injured. It was little wonder she thought him dead, for there had been a lot of blood, and after Ianto had gone to Cardiff to help Jack, his handler had decided that Broderick Cole had to die to maintain Ianto's cover.

"I survived," he replied in a clipped tone, leaving no room for argument. Johnson obviously sensed his dismissal and cocked an eyebrow.

"Why are you really here?" she said. "I was told in no uncertain terms to take out Harkness, his base, and his entire team. Why the change of plans?"

"He's met them before," replied Ianto, turning away from the others. "He could have valuable information about dealing with them."

"Met who?" asked Johnson, narrowing her eyes. Ianto gave her a skeptical look.

"Are your superiors not filling you in then?" he asked. "Or did you not see the headlines about the children?" He was still only guessing that it was all connected, but then again, credible obfuscation was the hallmark of a good cover, wasn't it?

"What's he got to do with the children?" she asked.

"That's what I need to find out," Ianto replied.

She studied him before shaking her hand as if she had come to some sort of decision. "He stays here until I can confirm moving him."

"I must take him to London," said Ianto, crossing his hands over his chest. "That's where it's happening."

"Where what's happening?" She pounced on the chance to have more answers, but this time Ianto didn't lie.

"I don't know," he replied. He stepped closer, leaned down until he was almost whispering in her ear. "But I do know Harkness has been around for a long time. He's seen a lot of things. If he can help us, why are we trying to kill him?"

The flash of doubt in her eyes was there and gone before Ianto had a chance to follow through, replaced instead with an unattractive sneer. "Because that's what we do," she replied, her voice equally as low. "We follow orders, no questions asked."

"Then let me follow mine," Ianto replied without missing a beat. She turned and walked away.

"As soon as I confirm them with my superior," she snapped over her shoulder. "In the meantime, make yourself comfortable and enjoy the freak show."

Ianto swore as he stared back into the room where Jack struggled against his bonds. It looked like Bryan's plan wasn't going to work after all. Time to start adapting the plan.

* * *

><p>Ianto paced up and down the small room where he had been directed to wait. It had been over an hour, and he was growing more impatient by the minute. If the base broke through the communications blackout Bryan was somehow orchestrating, they would know that Ianto's orders were fake—and even worse, that he was not who he claimed to be.<p>

So far it seemed to still be in effect; Ianto had tried to text Bryan several times and each had been bounced back. If he had no way to contact his handler, he was fairly certain Johnson had no way to contact Whitehall.

If she had, maybe she was making him cool his heels before officially taking him into custody. The thought galled, that she might be playing with him while he sat there and waited, his thoughts consumed by the thought of Jack's horrible resurrection and what the man was going through. More than anything, Ianto wanted to get Jack out of there. He did not deserve to be blown up, chained to the wall, and covered in concrete; no one did.

Unable to stand it any longer, Ianto stood and went to the door. To his slight surprise, it was unlocked, but he stepped outside to find two guards on either side of the door nonetheless. "I'd like to speak to Sullivan or Johnson. Immediately. I have orders that they are keeping me from following."

One guard nodded while the other stepped back, his hand on his weapon in warning. Ianto briefly entertained the idea of taking out the guard and breaking into Jack's cell, but suspected he'd be dead before he got far. So he rolled his eyes and played the part of impatient bureaucrat, and waited.

Sullivan arrived shortly. "What can I do for you, Agent Cole?" he asked politely.

"I need to see the prisoner," said Ianto. "I need to speak to him, and then transfer him to London as per my orders."

"I'm afraid I can't authorize that," said Sullivan, standing at ease with his hands behind his back.

"Then I'd like to speak to Agent Johnson. Immediately."

Sullivan looked ready to protest, but Ianto stepped up to him, once again standing at full height and using it to his advantage. "I'm under orders here, Agent Sullivan. If I don't follow them, I assure you that I will not be the only one found at fault."

Sullivan gave him a bland look. "We are not subject—" he started, but Ianto stepped even closer, lowering his voice threateningly.

"We're working for the same people, Sullivan," he hissed. "And you know how they do things. How they handle people they don't…appreciate." He let the implication hang in the air, until Sullivan nodded and turned around with a snap Ianto could almost hear.

"I'll take you to Agent Johnson, but the rest is on her."

"Thank you," said Ianto. He followed the agent to another room where Johnson was leaning against a table watching a set of television screens. Jack was on one of them, fully regenerated and now quiet. Ianto felt his heart go out to the other man, that he was going through this alone, and he once again resolved to get Jack out no matter the cost.

Johnson cocked her head when she heard him, though she did not turn around. "Ah, Agent Cole," she said in the same cold voice she'd used earlier. "Come to ask after Captain Harkness, I assume?"

"I must speak to him," Ianto said without preamble. "If he knows something important, we will both be held culpable for not retrieving that information."

She glanced over her shoulder. "Yes, you will."

"You're withholding him from me."

"I haven't confirmed your orders yet."

"Something to do with the phones not working?" he suggested, and was rewarded when she narrowed her eyes at him.

"How do you know?" she demanded, and he put his hands in his pocket and shrugged.

"I've tried to contact my own superiors, Agent Johnson. My calls did not go through." He paused and pretended to think. "It could have to do with what's going on in London. Perhaps that's interfering with communications."

She studied him carefully before stepping closer. "And what exactly is going on in London? What do you need Harkness for so badly?"

"Why do you want to kill him so badly?" Ianto retorted.

"Orders," snapped Johnson, and Ianto snorted derisively.

"We've already established that. You have yours, I have mine."

"Then tell me why my orders changed," she said. "What's going on in London that they decided they needed alive instead of dead and why are you involved?"

Ianto wondered if she really didn't know, if she was looking for information, or is she was trying to catch him in a lie. He took a calculated risk. "You saw what happened with the children?" he asked quietly, turning her away from the others in the room. She nodded.

"Some sort of mind control," she said. "Or mass paranoia."

He shook his head with a bleak chuckle. "Oh no, Agent Johnson. It's aliens."

"Of course it's not," she snapped. He stepped into her personal space, pulling a page from Jack's book again to gain the upper edge.

"Of course it is," he snapped right back. "You've seen aliens before, Agent Johnson. Or was Nevada nothing but a hallucination of epic proportions?"

"I know what I saw out there," she replied, staring at him with dark, cold eyes. "I saw you get shot, for one. You should be dead."

"I recovered," he replied blithely.

"Like Harkness?" she asked, and he stepped back, thrown off his game.

"What?" He tried to cover his stutter, but Johnson grinned in triumph.

"I shot him," she said quietly, watching his reaction. "We blew him up. Yet he keeps coming back. Why?"

"I don't know," Ianto snapped. "I'm not here for that."

"Are you like him, then? Did you die in that firefight in Area 51 and come back, like him? Is that really why you want him?"

It was so utterly ridiculous that Ianto found it easy to let his shock and anger come through. He stepped forward and took command of the confrontation once more.

"I was shot in the stomach. I almost bled out. But I was extracted and spent two weeks in hospital recovering. I could show you the scar if you'd like."

She sneered. "Don't flatter yourself."

"I'm not here to discuss my past or Harkness's resurrection powers with you. I'm here to find out what he knows about the aliens who have contacted London and are working through the children to get our attention."

"You're serious," she stated. "About the children and aliens."

"Dead serious," he replied in as flat a voice as he could manage. "We've come across information that indicates Harkness has had dealings with them before. So before you follow your orders to kill or contain him, let me follow mine and find out what he knows."

He stepped even closer to lean down and whisper in her ear. "Or I will destroy you, Agent Johnson. I have far more resources at my disposal than you could imagine, and I doubt very much that anyone will bother to protect you, least of all Whitehall."

The only sign of her nerves was a twitch and a swallow, then with a sharp nod she turned away and crossed her arms over her chest. "You have thirty minutes with him. Get out."

He smirked as he sketched a small bow; she didn't turn to acknowledge him. Ianto followed Sullivan out of the control room and through the base toward Jack's prison cell. If his heart was beating faster than normal, it was because he knew this was it. There was no way he was getting Jack out the easy way when Johnson had dug in her heels so hard; he was lucky to be allowed to even see Jack. Bryan had told him this might happen and to be prepared; they would have to fight their way to freedom.

"I hope you know what you're doing," Sullivan murmured as he nodded at the two guards standing in front of Jack's door.

"I hope he has the information we need," Ianto replied.

Sullivan gave him an enigmatic look before opening the door. Ianto stepped into the small cell and tried not to let the sight of Jack, naked and bound to the wall, affect him. He looked so fragile and defeated, though Ianto knew how strong Jack was, no matter how he appeared. He took a deep breath and nodded to Sullivan, then walked over toward Jack, who appeared to be sleeping.

"Mr. Harkness," he whispered, leaning close under the pretense of examining him. "Mr. Harkness, I need you to wake up."

Jack's eyes flew open, but Ianto silenced him with a look of warning, and Jack's startled reaction was turned into a defiant shout instead. Ianto stepped back and nodded, motioning at Sullivan to toss him the scrubs they'd secured for Jack's modesty during questioning. Ianto began to pull them on, ignoring the blue eyes burning into him, silently demanding answers.

"I'm not here to hurt you, Mr. Harkness," Ianto told him, and waited for Jack's expected reaction.

"_Captain_ Harkness," he ground out, his voice rough from screaming. Ianto covered a flinch with a deft tilt of his head.

"I'm here to ask you some questions, but I'd rather do it someplace more…comfortable." He watched Jack carefully as he glanced around the room, clearly studying the layout of the other people. "Will you cooperate?"

Jack nodded wordlessly, and Sullivan brought in the two guards. Ianto rolled his eyes, knowing Jack would understand, and Jack grinned.

"I'll try my best," he practically purred. Sullivan gave Ianto a skeptical glance.

"Are you sure about this?"

"Orders, Captain," Ianto replied, trying to sound weary. Sullivan nodded.

"I'm going to uncuff you," said Sullivan as he approached Jack, his body coiled tightly for defense. "Try anything, and you'll be dead before I hit the ground, and buried in concrete before you wake up."

Jack gave him a feral grin, then stared stoically at the ceiling. Sullivan uncuffed his arms from the ring, then bound them in front of Jack before stepping away. Ianto took Jack's upper arm to help him stand, throwing the scrub shirt across Jack's shoulders. He felt the other man's tense readiness and saw the minute nod of Jack's head signaling he was ready to follow. The guards flanked the door and Sullivan indicated to Ianto that he would follow.

Ianto led Jack through the door, still gripping his arm and squeezing tight to let him know something was about to happen. Jack seemed to understand and pulled his hands closer to his chest. Ianto bit back a grin; it was as if Jack was reading his mind, as if they hadn't been apart for ten months. Ianto quickly slipped the lockpick he'd hidden in the cuff of his sleeve into his fingers and deftly released Jack's handcuffs. Again, Jack reacted perfectly: the cuffs didn't fall for Jack kept his hands against his chest as they walked. He looked at Ianto and raised an eyebrow in question.

With a grin, Ianto reached into his jacket and pulled out his weapon, quickly taking down both guards in front of him with well-placed shots to the shoulder. Flipping the gun, he took the handle to the temple of both men and laid them unconscious. When he turned, Jack had his arm around Sullivan's neck.

"Jack!" Ianto hissed, and Jack dropped the agent, unconscious but breathing, then turned around. Ianto was surprised to see a dark look on Jack's face.

"What the hell is going on?"

"I don't have time to explain," said Ianto, slipping back into his native accent as he grabbed Jack's arm and pulled him forward. "You trusted me before, trust me again and I'll explain everything."

Jack regarded him stonily, but followed as Ianto led the way to the nearest exit. He slipped Jack one of the guards weapons and was instantly reminded of how good Jack was when he immediately took out two more guards who burst around the corner down the corridor behind them. He did not aim for the shoulder

"Thanks," Ianto murmured. Jack nodded curtly, and they continued, moving quickly but quietly until they were able to slip out onto the grounds through the nearest exit Ianto had memorized. Which was when Ianto slid his hand into his pocket, pulled out the mobile he'd modified at the safe house, and sent the preplanned microburst that would signal they were ready for the next distraction his handler was planning.

They didn't have long to wait. Within a minute, klaxons blared and Ianto could hear the distinct sound of doors clicking into place as the base went into lockdown. He turned toward Jack and grinned, and was rewarded when Jack finally grinned back.

"Hell of a rescue, Ianto Jones," he whispered before pulling Ianto into a bruising kiss. Ianto returned it eagerly, unable to resist after going without for so long, after going through so much. But he pulled back quickly, knowing it wasn't over yet.

"Let's go," he breathed, and together they sprinted toward freedom.

* * *

><p><span>Author's Note:<span>

Thank you so incredibly much to Tamaar for her brilliant and so very patient help with this chapter! The microburst transmitter is all hers, right down to the dialogue, since I really wanted to lock down the base and couldn't figure out how with communications blocked. Rewriting CoE with an Ianto Jones who has been gone for ten months and becoming a different man is a lot of fun, yet also a lot of work and quite challenging and she has been amazing! Thank you for reading and for all the reviews, even when I get behind in replying. They keep us fanfiction writers going, so please do leave a note to let us know what you thought!

PS. BWB - the JCB comment is for you!


	9. Day Two - Jack

9: Day Two - Jack

Jack wasn't quite sure how they made it across the grounds without being shot. It was broad daylight, the sirens and alarms were going off, and they were running for their lives across a secure military base, yet no one was chasing them. The grounds appeared empty. Jack couldn't wrap his mind around it; it was too easy.

"They're in complete lockdown," his companion murmured as Jack stopped and glanced behind them with a frown. "But they'll be able to reverse it soon enough, so we don't have much time. We need a good head start."

Jack turned back to the man he knew was Ianto Jones yet looked so different. At least he had dropped the odd accent and sounded more like the man Jack remembered. It was hard to believe that Ianto was there, standing right next to him. It felt like it had been forever since Ianto had called to warn him about the bomb, though to be honest, Jack wasn't sure how much time had passed. He'd never been blown up before and had no idea how long he had been in that cell while his flesh and bone regrew after being violently torn apart. Without a doubt, it had been the worse experience of his entire long life, and he did not want to go through it ever again.

Ianto pulled gently but insistently on Jack's hand and led them toward a UNIT SUV. "Come on, "he murmured, "I'll explain everything once we're safe."

Jack couldn't help but give him a skeptical look as he climbed into the passenger side. "Safe?" he asked, glancing out the window so that he didn't have to meet Ianto's strange brown eyes, hidden behind foreign glasses. "We're just going to drive out of here and hope they don't follow us?"

Ianto grinned as he drove toward the gate. "We're going to make sure they can't."

Jack was exhausted from his excruciating death, confused about his unexpected rescuer, and worried about everything else—his team, his family, the children. He hated not knowing what was going on, and he hated not being in control of whatever was happening around him. And he hated that he didn't seem to know this Ianto Jones anymore, who had waltzed in to a secure military facility, broken him out, and was completely confident that they would, in fact, escape. He closed his eyes and let his head fall back, but Ianto tapped his leg.

"Sleep later, Jack. Time to go." Ianto grabbed a bag before hopping out of the SUV, leaving it parked right in front of the gate. He strode toward the gatehouse, reaching for the gun tucked behind him. The guard came out with his own weapon raised, focused on Ianto and shouting at him to stop.

Ianto raised empty hands in surrender, which allowed Jack to take out the guard with the weapon Ianto had given him earlier, no words needed due to the implicit understanding of the situation and what needed to be done. Jack was strongly reminded of their silent coordination on Weevil hunts so many months ago. He and Ianto has always known exactly how to support one another, in the field and out of it, and seeing how easily they fell back into that pattern made him ache for all the times he'd gone without Ianto's strong presence in his life_._ Ianto grinned at him, and Jack couldn't help but nod back with a smile before the Welshman rushed past the fallen guard into the gatehouse, raised the gate, then grabbed Jack by the hand again and dragged him into the road.

"Not sure walking is the best method of escape in these situations," said Jack. Ianto turned, raised his gun at the UNIT vehicle and fired several well-placed shots. With a bang and a roar, the car exploded, effectively blocking the gate with a large fireball. "Ah, that's our head start," Jack said with an understanding nod.

"That's the idea," said Ianto.

"Bomb?" Jack asked.

"Ten pounds of impact explosive with a case full of gel fuel in the boot," Ianto replied.

"You always drive around with that much firepower under your bonnet?"

"Only when I'm trying to break people out of secure military bases," Ianto replied dryly. "Come on. There should be another car about half a kilometer from here."

"You really thought this through," Jack murmured, thoroughly impressed.

"I try my best, sir," Ianto replied as he reached into the bag and offered Jack a pair of shoes. He slipped them on and nodded his thanks, the simple words tugging at his heart.

"As soon as we get there, I'd really like to know what the hell is going on," Jack said. Ianto started jogging down the road, and Jack followed as best as he could, knowing his adrenaline would soon wear out.

"I'll tell you what I can," said Ianto. "But I'm still not sure what's going on myself."

"How long has it been since the bomb went off?" asked Jack. He needed information, first of all. If he'd been out for days, everything might be done and over, with nothing to worry about but the inevitable consequences and clean up operation.

"Last night," said Ianto. He slowed down, glancing around until he saw the inconspicuous car parked on the side of the road. It was a rusty piece of junk, the hood propped up as if it had simply died right there and been abandoned. Ianto slammed the hood closed, picked the lock easily, and climbed in, starting it immediately with a key stashed under the seat. Jack took a deep breath and followed, once again stuck in the passenger seat, out of control.

Pulling off the grass, Ianto started slowly down the road, then increased his speed until he was flying quite a bit faster than Jack ever remembered the Welshman driving in Cardiff. The silence stretched between them.

Jack kept glancing behind them, waiting for the pursuit to arrive with guns blazing, but it never came. It seemed Ianto had everything planned. Jack was itching for answers, so he started asking the questions that had been forming in his mind since he'd heard Ianto's voice on his mobile, starting with the most immediate.

"Where are we going?" he asked. Ianto glanced sideways at him, the mask of cool confidence slipping slightly.

"I thought we'd go back to the Hub. I'm hoping the lower levels might be undamaged." He frowned. "Although I didn't think what it would be like for you after…" He trailed off, biting his lip as he shook his head. "I'm sorry."

"No, it's fine," said Jack. "But we should go to Flat Holm. It's the best place to regroup."

"And hopefully no one will think to look there," agreed Ianto. "They might still be watching the Hub."

Jack gave him a thoughtful look and glanced out the window. "Maybe. The others know to make their way there in case the Hub is compromised or destroyed. So we huddle there. What next?"

"I don't know," Ianto said quietly. "I've only thought up to getting you out."

"Why?" asked Jack, and Ianto frowned at him.

"Why what? Why haven't I thought ahead? Frankly, I wasn't sure it would work."

"No, why did you come for me?" asked Jack. He didn't turn to look at Ianto, but could feel the man's eyes piercing him, and the curt tone to his voice made his feelings clear enough.

"I should think that was obvious, Jack!" Ianto snapped. "You're immortal. I couldn't let them keep trying to kill you until it stuck. Or worse. Johnson wanted to put you in concrete." Jack shuddered at the thought, remembering his long years buried underground.

"That's it?" asked Jack. He heard the bitterness in his voice and didn't bother to disguise it. He was angry—about being killed and captured, about losing the Hub and quite possibly his team—and though he knew he was displacing his anger onto Ianto, he was also upset at the other man for appearing so unexpectedly at such a difficult time, even if Ianto had saved his life.

"Jack, this isn't about us right now. I know you're probably angry and confused, but—"

Jack waved his hand, stopping him and turning his body toward the Welshman. "Yes, I'm angry and confused, and I know it's not about you or me, but there are still some things I need to know, need to understand, before we move forward here. Like where you've been for the last year, and why you're suddenly back in the game now."

Ianto sighed. He nodded as he glanced briefly at Jack. "Yes, I imagine you do. Fine. I'm taking the long way, so we've got time, unless you want to sleep."

"I want to talk," said Jack, although sleep was tempting. He was nothing if not stubborn, however, and he couldn't rest until he had some grasp of what was going on.

"What do you want to know?" asked Ianto.

"Where have you been?"

"Around," said Ianto, obviously evading a more specific answer. "But most recently, I've been in England."

"You said you called me from London," said Jack, and Ianto nodded. "What have you been doing there?"

Jack watched Ianto carefully, their time together coming back to him as he read the other man's reaction: a deep breath to relax the tightening around his eyes as his hands gripped the steering wheel harder. Ianto was nervous, even scared, and Jack suspected there was guilt and shame in his face as well.

"I've been working for UNIT," Ianto said softly. When Jack was silent, Ianto turned to look at him, blue eyes full of uncertainty and regret.

"How long?" asked Jack.

"Eight months," said Ianto, and it finally clicked. Jack nodded, turning back to the window as the anger and hurt surged through him.

"Eight months," he murmured. "You didn't take the Retcon, did you?"

"Jack…" started Ianto, sounded weary, but Jack stopped him.

"Did you?" he demanded, and glanced back to see Ianto shake his head.

Jack leaned his head back against the seat and closed his eyes. He contemplated falling asleep right there, avoiding the rest of the conversation in favor of rest, but he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep until he understood what was going on, with both Ianto and everything else swirling around him. Then again, this was Ianto Jones he was speaking to; Jack was starting to wonder if he had ever really known the man.

"Why?" he whispered, and he heard Ianto swallow hard next to him. He turned and watched the Welshman struggle with his emotions, swiping angrily at his eyes as he continued to drive, obviously trying to pull the words together.

"Ianto, why did you leave?" asked Jack, his voice quiet. There was no anger anymore, only confusion and pain, and Ianto's shoulders shook as he answered.

"I had to," he said. "I couldn't stay. I didn't plan on joining UNIT, but after two months of wandering aimlessly, I needed something. A purpose." He swallowed and shrugged. "They didn't accept me immediately. It was…difficult."

"I can imagine," murmured Jack.

Ianto shot him a look of gratitude, that Jack was not condemning him, at least for now. "They decided they could either use me or throw me in prison for desertion. I took the deal and was placed in Broadsword."

Jack nodded. It made a twisted sort of sense, to make use of Ianto's skills and experience. Ianto had ended up much like Toshiko, trading his freedom for the job. "So special ops, then?"

"It seemed to fit my skill set," Ianto replied with a brittle laugh. "Although it feels like I've done nothing but muck up since I started."

"You're Broderick Cole," said Jack, confirming the gut instinct he'd followed for months. "You came to Cardiff when I was in a coma."

"I did."

"Why?"

Ianto shook his head impatiently. "Jack, just because I left doesn't mean I don't care. You were in a coma. That's never happened. I wanted to help."

Jack nodded, accepting Ianto's answer. "Okay, then how come when I went to London a week later, UNIT told me Broderick Cole was dead?"

"Because he was," Ianto replied, and this time the bitterness was clear. "My handler killed that identity and set me up with a new one when he realized what I had done."

"Punishment?" asked Jack in surprise.

"In a way." Ianto sighed. "Condition of employment, that I have no further contact with Torchwood. You figured it out, so Cole had to go. We couldn't let you find me."

"You became Alun Matthews," said Jack, knowing he was right. Ianto laughed again.

"Who disappeared after you followed him to Australia," he said.

"You have a strict handler," Jack murmured, and Ianto nodded fervently.

"You have no idea. He's also brilliant and terrifying."

"So that brings us to today. Is he helping you with this little adventure?"

"Yes. It was his idea, he got me in and he got us out. Is that enough for now? Because we need to talk about the broader picture. There's more going on here than my disappearance ten months ago."

"The children," murmured Jack. They were cruising down the A33 now, and though Jack wanted more answers from Ianto about his time away, he also knew that there were other concerns to discuss. "But I want to talk about you more later."

Ianto sighed. "Fine. Were you able to learn anything about the children before the Hub blew?" Jack shook his head.

"Not really. Gwen and Martha talked to a man who was affected by it, while Jake and Mickey worked the tech angle at the Hub."

"And did they find anything?" asked Ianto.

"Not that I know of. I was kind of busy getting killed." He let his eyes slip closed and tried not to think about it. A surprising touch on his knee found Ianto taking his hand and holding tight.

"I'm so sorry," Ianto whispered, choking up as he had on the phone. "God, Jack, I can't imagine what it was like."

"Not my best day," Jack murmured, but the jest was hollow. It had been hell.

"Do you know who did it? Or why?"

"I have no idea," said Jack. "I went to the hospital to meet with a doctor and try to see some kids, and then the next thing I know I woke up lying dead next to him and you're calling to tell me there's a bomb in my stomach. How did you know?"

"Right. My turn again," said Ianto. He was still driving along at a fast clip, his concentration locked on the road before him and behind him. "I've been at Thames House since Australia, light duty to recover and regroup, a sort of liason to MI5. Their alien tech guy had a message come through this morning on some ancient radio he keeps. He ran off to the Home Office with it."

"To John Frobisher?" asked Jack in surprise.

"Oduya was at there to see Frobisher too, about the children. Whatever's going on, it's big and it's connected. Dekker said they've been here before. We think Torchwood might have been involved, and that's why they wanted to take you out."

Jack gave him a confused look. "But what are they? Who are they?"

"Dekker said they're known as the 456 because that's the frequency they use to communicate."

"The 456…" Jack trailed off, his heart turning to ice. "Oh my god. They're back." He felt his breath catch and then speed up as if he was going to have a panic attack. His past, his mistake, his guilt—it all came rushing back, crushing him with the enormity of the situation. It suddenly all made sense. The children. The old radio. The frequency.

But why were they trying to hide it by killing him?

"Jack?" asked Ianto, and Jack was fairly sure the man had been calling his name for at least a minute as he sounded more and more panicked. "What is it? What do you know?"

"They _have_ been here before," Jack said quietly. "In 1965. I was there."

"I figured that was the case," Ianto said, still sounding confused. "What I don't understand is why they want to kill you. If you were there, if you dealt with them before, then they should be calling you, begging Torchwood to help."

Jack laughed bitterly. "No one likes asking Torchwood for help, you know that."

"True," said Ianto, offering a small smile. "So what do you think is going on?"

"I'm not sure." Jack brought a hand to his face, rubbed it to keep his eyes open and his mind working. There was still so much he didn't know. "Tell me more. Who gave the order to have us killed? And how did you find out about it?"

"I don't know exactly, no, but it came from Whitehall," Ianto replied. "Dekker let slip something about Torchwood being taken care of, so I did some digging, found the order, and contacted one of our sources for more intel. There was a blank page order to kill you and three others."

"Three others?" Jack asked sharply. "Who?"

Ianto rattled off the names, but Jack didn't recognize them. "Could they have also been involved in 1965?" he asked when Jack didn't say anything.

"I'd say it's likely," said Jack. "If I saw pictures, I might know for sure. We didn't use our real names. What about the rest of the team? Are they safe for now?"

When Ianto didn't answer immediately, Jack feared the worst. "Tell me," he said.

"Apparently they got out, because I was told that they're being sought by the same team that found you," said Ianto. "It appears the order now extends to them as well."

Jack swore again before something occurred to him, something he had forgotten until that moment. "What about you? What happened on the phone?" he demanded.

Ianto glanced at him wide-eyed. "I assumed the bomb went off," he said.

"No, you were disconnected first," said Jack. "You said they were listening to my phone. Did they get to you?"

"I'm fine."

"Did they get to you?" Jack repeated. Ianto stared straight ahead, until this time Jack reached for him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Just because you left doesn't mean I don't care," he said softly, then grinned. "Also doesn't mean I'm not pissed off as hell, but I need to understand what's going on. Did they come after you?"

"Yes," Ianto said, still refusing to meet Jack's eyes.

"You got away, though," said Jack. "Tell me what happened."

"There's nothing to tell," said Ianto, his voice flat and quiet. "They traced the call and shot up my flat. I ran. I spent last night in a safe house before setting out this morning to get your arse out of Aston Down."

"Are you all right?" Jack asked softly, and Ianto turned to look at him.

"Are you?" he parried back.

"I usually am," Jack replied.

"The Hub's gone," Ianto pointed out. "Somehow, I thought it would be there forever."

"Sort of like me?" Jack replied, and Ianto rolled his eyes, though he smiled.

"Did you ever think of coming back?" Jack asked quietly. Ianto turned to look at him with sad eyes.

"All the time," he whispered.

Jack nodded and let his head fall back between the seat and the window. He closed his eyes and started trying to put the pieces of the puzzle back together. The 456 had returned. He had been there in 1965 when they had first come to Earth and demanded twelve children in exchange for an antivirus that would save the world. Their return could only mean the aliens could not be trusted. Were they back for more children? Did the government want to cover up the fact that they had already cooperated once? Were they planning to cooperate again? Were they, even now, rounding up a group of children no one would miss?

Before he could answer, he felt sleep tugging at the corner of his mind. The last thing he remembered was Ianto's hand on his knee, urging him to rest.

* * *

><p>When Jack woke, it was to the warmth of Ianto's coat across his chest, the scent of fish and chips intermingled with Ianto's aftershave. Glancing around, he saw that they were in a car park Jack recognized as being not far from the dock to Flat Holm. He hadn't slept for long, then. Turning his head, he found Ianto sitting next to him, staring at the ceiling.<p>

"What's wrong?" he asked, his voice husky from sleep. Ianto let his head fall to the side and offered a crooked smile.

"What's not wrong?" he returned.

"I'm not in pieces, you're not in prison." He pointed to the greasy bag between them. "We've got food, and shelter is across the way. You, Ianto Jones, made us a hell of a get away."

"Right," said Ianto with a laugh that was half sigh. "Then let's go eat, I suppose."

Before he turned to leave the car, Jack reached for Ianto's hand and squeezed tight. "If I haven't already said so, thanks for coming after me."

Ianto squeezed back, but didn't reply before getting out of the car. He grabbed the food and the bag he'd tossed in the back while Jack pulled Ianto's coat over his scrubs and followed him to the dock. They were able to get a boat to the island immediately. Ianto paid the man generously, soliciting his silence, and Jack hoped the pilot wasn't hurt if they were somehow tracked to the area.

The staff at Flat Holm were overjoyed to see Jack, having heard about the explosion on the Plass from the news coverage. They'd assumed the worst for Jack and the team.

"How did you know the Hub was destroyed?" asked Jack, and Helen's eyes went wide.

"Mickey told us, of course," she exclaimed. "Come on, I'll take you to him."

"Mickey is here?" Jack asked, more relieved than he cared to admit. "What about the others? Did any of the others make it?"

"Martha is here as well," Helen told them as they walked, the fish and chips forgotten. "She was injured, though. They both were."

Jack walked faster, wanting to see his team. Ianto was to his right, where he had once stood at Jack's side, silent, strong, and supportive, and it felt natural and comforting to have him back. Yet the Welshman seemed both sad and apprehensive as he glanced around the facility, and Jack gave him a curious, questioning glance.

"Never thought I'd be back," Ianto murmured.

Helen stopped in front of them and turned around, squinting her eyes. "Back? What do you mean, back?"

"Helen, you remember Ianto Jones, right?" asked Jack, and her eyes went wide as a hand flew to her mouth.

"Mr. Jones!" she exclaimed. She pulled him in for a hug, then stepped back and frowned. "You certainly look different, but it's good to see you."

"You too, Helen," Ianto said softly, stepping back to Jack's side. Jack wanted to take the man's hand and offer him support; in fact, he wanted to do much more, the long months apart having done very little to quell his feelings for the man. Ianto had left them, had left Jack, but he was there now. He had tried to save Jack from the bomb, had in fact saved Jack from a terrible fate if what he'd said about the concrete was true. Jack knew Ianto had risked everything to help him and suspected he only knew the half of it. There were still so many things he needed to know, but any anger he had felt over the long months of Ianto's absence was muted by relief and hope, as well as the need to focus on the current situation, starting with his team. And Ianto was a part of that now.

* * *

><p>Martha was sleeping when Helen opened the door to where she and Mickey were resting. Her face was scratched and bruised, her leg bound in a cast. Helen told them Martha had been knocked over by a large piece of debris in the blast, shattering her leg and leaving her with a slight concussion, bruised ribs, and numerous lacerations. Mickey was dozing in a chair beside her, his arm in a sling and a large bandage covering what Helen said were a dozen stitches to his head. He had a sprained knee that was propped up in front of him.<p>

Mickey woke the moment the door opened, eyes widening when he saw Jack. Embraces were exchanged, followed by a quick recounting of what had happened to each of them. Jack introduced Ianto to Mickey and shared how Ianto had got him out of Aston Down, while Mickey told them how he had got Martha off the Plass and into hiding while avoiding the hit team. He had stabilized her until they'd been able to get to Flat Holm, where the doctors and nurses had treated them both.

"Have you heard from Jake?" asked Jack, knowing Jake and Mickey had been close. He was hoping for the best but suspected it was not good, especially when Mickey shook his head, his eyes hard.

"I don't think he made it. I snuck back toward the Hub when the sun came up and saw them carrying out a body bag."

"It was probably me," Jack murmured, shuddering as he tried not to think about it.

"I don't know how you survived that," Mickey said, shaking his head.

"Sometimes I don't know either, Mickey," Jack replied softly, then cleared his throat. "What about Gwen? Have you heard anything?"

Ianto stepped forward, a surprised look on his face. "Bryan told me she was captured but that she escaped." Jack turned toward him in surprise. "I'm sorry, I completely forgot to tell you."

Jack stared for a moment. "Bryan?" he asked, trying not to let any inflection show in his voice. He obviously failed, for Ianto rolled his eyes.

"My fifty-five-year-old married handler," Ianto replied. "The one who got both our arses out of that base."

"Remind me to thank him when this is all over," Jack murmured. "Maybe he'll tell me what you've been up to for the last eight months."

"I'll tell you myself," said Ianto, his tone laced with frustration and weariness. "But we have other priorities right now."

"I know, I know," Jack grumbled. "I was trying to lighten the mood." He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "So if Gwen escaped, where is she?"

"Right behind you," said a voice in the doorway. Gwen stood there with Rhys, eyes wide as she stared at the ragtag group in the small, dark room. Jack, wearing scrubs and Ianto's coat; Ianto, with his glasses and a beard; Martha, waking up and looking around in confusion; and Mickey, bandaged and grinning at her.

"Gwen Cooper, nice of you to show up," Jack drawled. He stood and hurried to embrace her, shaking hands with Rhys. When he turned back to his team, Gwen was checking on Martha and Mickey before moving toward Ianto, who had retreated toward a dark corner, as if trying to lose himself in shadows. He watched her warily as she moved closer.

"Ianto?" she whispered, and he nodded, then took off his glasses and shoved them in a pocket.

"Hi, Gwen," he said softly.

She lifted a shaking hand to his face, running her fingers along the short beard. And then they all winced as she pulled back and slapped him hard, leaving a large red imprint upon his cheek.

"That's for leaving us," she said before she threw herself into his arms. He looked startled as he wrapped his hands around her back, glancing at Rhys in confusion. "And that's for coming back," she whispered.

He kissed the top of her head and exchanged a look with Jack, his eyes bright with tears.

"I'm so sorry," Ianto whispered.

"I know," Jack mouthed back. And he did. He could see how much Ianto regretted hurting them. The question now was how did they move forward when the world might be coming to an end?

* * *

><p><span>Author's Note:<span>

Thank you thank you thank you Taamar! I can't say it enough.

And thank you for all the reviews, I'm so glad the last chapter came off well. This one is the first of several talks I suspect Jack and Ianto will be having over the course of this story. The next chapter is quite a bit longer and sees them all settle at Flat Holm, talk some more, and work out a plan of sorts. Hopefully something a bit more successful than canon! Thanks again!


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